Way One Moves Time
by Kal Ancalas
Summary: A single choice can change a destiny. A single soul can be corrupted. A single heart can mean the difference between victory and defeat. Officially dead for all intents and purposes, though I may finish it on a whim.
1. Chapter 1

_**Way One Moves Time**_

_A MapleStory Tale In Three Acts_

_Written by Kal Ancalas_

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Author's Note: Three weeks ago, I said that this would be a oneshot. 

As you can tell, I sort of lied.

Mainly, I thought my life would take a turn for the better once I got the weight of Revolt off my chest, but it hasn't. The personal troubles continue, and the fact that Revolt didn't get that many reviews certainly didn't help. Yeah, yeah, I know- 14 reviews are practically a godsend in the Maple fandom, but not when the story is on 60 people's favorites lists.

You will notice that this story doesn't start at the beginning (like Citizen Kane), and thus, about 90 percent of the stuff mentioned in this chapter won't make a flipping bit of sense. This is intentional. I'm not intending to write this as a light-hearted piece of fiction- this is a serious work, perhaps more so than any other author has dared to breach in the Maple universe (please forgive my blatant lack of modesty here, but I'm trying to make a point). Therefore, I'm trying to keep this story on a need-to-know basis- hence, events will be explained as the other two parts are written and released.

You will also notice that the main character's name is Kal Ancalas. This isn't meant to be a blatant bit of Mary Sueing here- that was never my intent. It's supposed to be symbolic more than anything, as the Kal Ancalas in this story goes through personal and physical conflicts that roughly mirror some of my own current feelings. In the end, as the reader, it will ultimately be _your_ job to examine the story from several points of view and determine who is truly right and who is truly wrong in this literal game of good-and-evil. Again, I stress- this is not light reading, people. I wasn't in the best of moods when I wrote this. There's a lot of cursing and dark thoughts, and general depravity. You've been forewarned.

And yes, it IS possible to have Norse and Japanese mythology in the same story. Ecks dee.

Oh, and just in case you're wondering, this story _isn't set in the same universe as Revolt._ This should clear up any confusion.

I wrote this in under two hours, so don't be surprised if there's a typo or ten.

Just read, review, and ask questions later.

-Kal

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"_Someday, Ancalas, you shall know that life is all too short and precious to waste, that time, that great and lasting gift of god that is at once man's greatest blessing and his greatest sorrow, only moves one way."_

_-Clarias Faber_

* * *

The moonlight shines through the window, bathing me in its light, and as I gaze out and stared into the twisted, dark depths of the black sky above, I feel my own heart beating a pulse of its own, a mantra that pushes words into my mind faster than I can shove them out, and I want to scream why, why am I standing here, why should I be the one to stand at the zenith of this tower, at this time, in this moment? 

My heart pulses once more, and then it fades away.

I stand quietly, cold breaths of air escaping my tight, drawn lips. There is no sound, and yet noise is flooding my ears every second. Breathing, hard, heavy breathing. The cry of armor breaking in a shower of blood and steel. The whisper of a blade as it takes another life. The death of innocence as I left them forever and relinquished my grip on the life I once knew.

They are gone, and I know that. Nothing will change that- not even Tsukuyomi Herself.

Those who would be my friends, or claim to be my friends, they have vanished, gone from this cruel earth with no one's memory to claim them except my own. Susanne, she is gone. Elisabeth, gone as well. Clarias has gone also, and Drake has gone forever. Even Charles…he who would seize glory, he who had once been my closest companion. He is gone from me as well.

Friendship is dead to me. It is a sign of weakness, a sign of tacit acknowledgment that you are flawed. It is one thing I cannot tolerate. That, I have learned from Thaler and the hands of Tsukuyomi.

I turn away from the window, and the cries fade as the blade rustles in its sheath once more. I draw, remembering the days of years long past, when light still streamed in through the windows of my mind.

It is dark now. Dark, as dark as the night and walls that surround me. It is a restful dark, one that brings solace to me for the first time in years.

"_You are the leader of the Aesir now, don't forget it." _Thaler's voice echoes dimly in my ears, a sound that drowns out all others in my mind.

I won't, I tell myself, as the calm brand of night-black steel sluices through the air. Another imaginary cadaver lies at my feet as the soul flies to Purgatory. It is my responsibility to kill. I am Death, for where there is Death, there is also Life. It is the way of the world that everything must be divided. Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu rule the land now, and I at their side, shall lead it into the Great Awakening. The Armageddon.

The door opens, and I stand at attention. Moonlight throws its glow over the blood-red and night-black cuirass that I must wear for the rest of my days, as my duty to the true Goddess.

"High Lord Ancalas." The tone is bleak, subservient. It is exactly what I need to hear.

"Yes." I answer in response, neatly returning the night-lit brand of Fenrir to its sheath. "I am weary, Delphinor. I trust your tidings will be good."

"The forces of Amaterasu are readying themselves on the lands of Victoria, my Lord." he whispers. "They are preparing for war."

"And you know this from…?" I ask, my tone barely edged with poisonous malice.

"We have sentries in Victoria, Ancalas." Delphinor bows lightly, his robes sweeping the cold stone floor. "The Vanir are preparing themselves for their final assault. They talk of bringing Tsukuyomi to her knees."

"So I see." My blood-red eyes turn to the window as I gaze into solace once more. "Verana has decided to launch the world into Armageddon. I would never have believed it, such a dog-eared coward as he…but it is of no consequence. If anything, we should rejoice at this news, Delphinor. Amaterasu's blood shall stain the lands of Victoria for the last time."

"Yes." Delphinor keeps his face bowed to the ground. "Shall I alert the rest of the Aesir?"

"Please do. It would save me the trouble of having to rouse them myself." The hand twitches as it rests upon Fenrir's sacred hilt once more. "It begins at last. What of the sacred weapons, Delphinor?"

"Fenrir rests in our hands, as you know." I hear his sleeves ruffle in the breeze. "Jormungand and Helfyre have been safely recovered. As to the fate of Heimdall, Yggdrasill, and Ratatosk, I can unfortunately say no better…"

"It is of no importance." A thin smile curls around my face, and I am not sure which emotion I want to express. "I should have known that Verana would gather the Three Fates of Amaterasu before long."

"We have no matter to trouble ourselves about, then?"

"None at all." I whisper softly, the smile still on my face. "Glory to Tsukuyomi and the Coming Age."

"Glory to Tsukuyomi and the Coming Age." he repeats, his voice as cold and stone as it has always been, before he leaves. His footsteps echo across the ground as he walks, each a reminder of my past.

I want to step back and return to the early days of my youth, but they have long gone, as have the people within them. Charles and Susanne…the names are so familiar, yet so far away at the same time. Would anyone have known that they had once been my childhood friends upon the Maple Island, eager to make names for ourselves in the great world of Bera? Goddess forbid!

They were a wondrous pair, those two. Charles had been the timid one, intelligent yet shy and reserved, a future bandit. Susanne was his exact foil; brash, confident, and very determinedly unfeminine, she was destined for the way of the sword. And I, I seemed to be the glue who held them together, though it is so long by now, I cannot remember anything except bare fragments.

Fenrir trails softly as I stare into Tsukuyomi's moonlight. They would have wanted to die together. Though they never thought of each other as more than friends, I knew that they had harbored feelings towards each other for so long…feelings ultimately cut short by Susanne's untimely demise, and Charles's soon after.

There is no greater sorrow than what could have been, I think to myself, as memories slip through the windowpanes of my mind.

I recall that we had once been with Amaterasu's factions- all of us. And one by one, we had fallen, through the great gates of the gods into the netherworld, until none were left. The thought warms and chills me at the same time. I know I could not possibly have gotten where I am today without Amaterasu. Yet, at the same time, I am the leader of Tsukuyomi's Aesir, determined to bring her to ruin upon pain of eternal rest in hell's flames.

Clarias returns to me now. I see him as vividly as though he were standing here, and yet I know he is not. Every line of him seems razor-sharp, exactly as he had been years ago. His oaken hair shimmers in the moonlight, a rapier at his waist as magic gleamed at his fingertips. He was the former leader of Amaterasu, and he had once been my companion and trusted friend. As had all of them.

The knowledge is bittersweet, leaving a double-sided cut in my heart. For all of his faults, Clarias had one redeeming feature that I had always admired him for; his perseverance. Even if he knew he was fighting for a lost cause, he refused to give up. He wanted to believe that someday, the world would be free of ruin, even if he could not live to enjoy that vision.

He had known that, and he had told me that knowing full well how I would impart that knowledge.

Clarias died knowing I would betray him. I have often thought that many times since his death, since Elisabeth's death, since Drake's death, and I have asked myself if it was true. Certainly, I can never know for sure- it is one of the few secrets that he has managed to carry to the grave with him.

The clouds of war are gathering as I stare out into the window once more. Since then, I have taken hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives. I remember each, and I do not regret- save for five, five souls that shall rest in my tormented soul for all eternity, all because of something I had once known called friendship.

Charles, Susanne, Clarias, Elisabeth, and Drake…they are all gone now, into the realm eternal that I will someday enter, once I have found my favor with Tsukuyomi.

Perhaps then, I can see them once more.

As Fenrir's sheath shimmers in the moonlight, I turn away from the window as I think of one.

In another life, there might have been a time when I had loved Elisabeth Caelis, her dark hair fluttering in the breeze as her dear, sweet voice beckoned to me, telling me how perfect we were for each other. Her magic captivated me, beautiful as its caster, as we struck down hordes of enemies together without another thought of the future.

In another life, I am sure Charles, Clarias, and Drake would have approved.

Time has trapped me in its eternal grasp, and I can do nothing as Elisabeth disappears into the void once more, a void that scars more deeply than anything else because she had once been the one meant for me.

Her death rests in my heart, as does Drake's.

I cannot tell whether it was Drake that betrayed me, or whether I had been betraying him my whole life. Certainly, I hadn't known him as long as I had Charles or Susanne, but to say the least, I had grown accustomed to him, accepted the fact that he would be with me, regardless of his own motives. If slightly flamboyant, somewhat narcisstic, and a bit of a nihilist, I had never harbored any ill will towards the ranger.

I have always wondered what he was thinking the moment I killed him.

Do I blame myself? Perhaps, to some extent. I blame myself for all of their deaths, because I had been close to them. I especially blame myself for Drake's demise, because I had been the one that had dealt him the fatal blow.

But those times of regret have long since passed. I am no longer Kal Ancalas anymore; I am the scion of Tsukuyomi and leader of her forces, and it is my destiny to lead the world into Armageddon. And once the war is over, Tsukuyomi shall take the world in her tender embrace once more, and the world shall be saved.

I wonder what Charles, my best and closest friend since childhood, would have said. He had always been the timid and shy one- the nerd of the lot, to use the secular term. Without Susanne and me supporting him, I doubt he would have survived in this world. But survive he did. He quickly progressed from a simple glasses-wearing whelp to a Night Lord, the best I- or anyone else, for that matter, has ever seen.

He left me soon after Susanne's death, and I never blamed him. I knew how he had felt, because I had felt the same way with Elisabeth.

He is gone now, and I must accept that as I turn from the window for the last time and begin to descend the stairs of the tower, Fenrir gleaming at my side.

I am Kal Ancalas, master of the Aesir of Tsukuyomi, and it is my sworn duty in Armageddon to destroy Charles Verana, leader of the Vanir of Amaterasu, may the Goddess help me.

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_Try to review intelligently, please. There's going to be little to no chance that this will get updated without inspiration._

_Also, if you haven't reviewed Revolt yet, get off your lazy arse._

_-Kal _


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: For all of you complaining that this wasn't even Maple-related, well, here's your answer. **

**Oh, and by the way: This story will now have 4 parts instead of 3, because I'm lazy. You may submit your comments and letter bombs now.**

**Some of you may complain at the fact that this is written in present tense, which tends to screw up people's reading experiences. Well, I have one thing to say to all of you naysayers: It's FF's bandwidth you're wasting, not mine.**

**Also, I realize that this chapter (so to speak) is rather anticlimactic: i.e., no one dies/has sex/gets revived and then has sex in a totally disturbing necrophilia scene. Well, without being too angsty or overdramatic (since I know a lot of my author's notes have been going that way) I will say this: Last month sucked. Really, really sucked. Therefore, I didn't have time to write the climactic parts. That is all.**

**For those of you still wondering (and actually care), Revolt is officially on a standstill. I've written about nine pages of the next chapter, and then, everything shut down from there. I can barely get enough brain juice to write this, let alone something the scale of Revolt. Plus, for once in my life, I'm not going to mince words here. The reviews were really, truly godawful. I think you people spent an average of half a brain cell reviewing the latest chapter. People- it's really, really important that you read carefully- there was a lot of important stuff in that chapter (not just some unimportant person getting blown to bits), and I don't want a lot of horseshit reviews telling me how confused they are over a major plot point. Oh wait, that happened already (with the Seles/Marron issue).**

**That being said, happy early Thanksgiving.**

**-Kal**

**-----**

**P.S: Some of you may think I'm being counter-productive by being bitchy for reviews. Do I honestly think screaming is going to get me a lot of positive feedback? No. But quite frankly, it's the only way to vent some of what I'm feeling at the moment (including, among things, a godawful GPA, screwing up a really important piano audition, screwing up an almost as important tennis competition, and a suicide attempt). I couldn't make this stuff up, people.**

**Sorry for my bitchiness. Hopefully things will clear up in the weeks and months to come.**

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_**act I: creation (1)**_

It began, as all good stories do, with a whisper.

"Kal."

"Yeah?"

"You still awake?"

"I am now." Light fills the room with a flick of the wall switch, and Charles and I are resting on our backs staring at the ceiling. The air is hot, heavy with the mists of Maple Island's summer. A gust of wind blows through the room, taking with it moonlight, fireflies, and all that other pestilence.

"What is it now, Verana?" I snap darkly. My voice reflects off the walls, and Charles winces slightly. "You'd better have a freaking good reason for waking me up at two in the morning…"

Charles' face is glassy in the artificial light of the room. His dark hair breezes across his pupils as his glasses hang askance on his nose, temporarily lending his face an extra set of eyes. "I was just thinking, you know…"

"Would it kill you to do something else besides thinking for a change? Like _sleeping, _maybe?" Indignantly, I reach for the switch and slam it closed, and the light dies instantly. "Go back to sleep."

"Yeah, but…" Charles' voice pokes cautiously through the darkness. "We're going off to Victoria tomorrow. _Tomorrow, _Ancalas."

"Rapturous joy." I respond flatly. In the years that I've known him, I haven't seen a minute where Charles Verana hasn't brought up some unimportant remark that I've plied aside in a matter of minutes. Tonight, unfortunately, is no different.

"We're going to ride the airship, and go to Perion and Kerning City, and get our jobs, and-"

"I heard, I heard." I swat my hand through the darkness, as though trying to bat away the annoying pest that his voice is. Not surprisingly, it has no effect. "Stop acting like such a kid. You're twelve already, Charles."

This seems to silence him, and I clutch my pillow tighter, hoping somewhat that doing so will shut him up.

It works, at least for the span of a few precious minutes. "I wonder what the advancement test's going to be like. People have been saying it's really hard. Someone told me it involved jumping through a Ligator-infested swamp…"

"If you don't shut up, Charles, I am going to make sure that happens first thing tomorrow morning." I fervently grip the pillow and scream into its soft depths.

There is some tense quiet before he speaks. "Come on, Ancalas. We're friends, and it's just- you know, after this, we'll never be the same again. It's our first job advancement, for god's sake. How can you lie there and tell me you're not excited?"

My fingers slacken around the pillow. Though Charles may be annoying sometimes, I can't deny that in our conversations, he usually ends up saying the right thing at the right time. It's one of the reasons we became friends in the first place, unfortunately.

"Yeah, I guess." My voice hangs in the air as a firefly's spark lights the air for a fleeting moment. "You _are _excited, aren't you?"

I can't see anything in the dark, but I can feel Charles' eyes throwing sarcastic daggers at me. "No, Sherlock, I_am _excited. We'll go to Victoria tomorrow, you, me, and Susanne, and we'll finally make our first forays into the world at last." He laughs, a light chuckle carried by the breeze. "Then we'll go off to lunch. I'm starving already…"

"God, Charles, can't you think about anything except food?" I tease, throwing him a mischievous look in the dark.

"Shut up, Kal." he mutters, turning over in his bed and leaving his back turned.

I lie back as the breeze washes over me and the fireflies play outside, and I resent Charles waking me up, but I can't deny the one thing he's right about.

We will never be the same again, no matter how much we want to tell ourselves otherwise.

* * *

_**act II: induction (5)**_

The sun beats hell out of me when I wake up, its rays pounding my back and telling me exactly what I don't want to hear- that the world is waiting for me to conquer it, and _ohmygodI'msofreakinghungryithurts._

Rolling out of bed, I miss the floor (not an easy feat, frankly) and hit the hardwood ankles first. I stagger to my feet and pull some clothes on haphazardly, throwing a shirt over my front and pulling a pair of shorts on. The blade of a sword gleams on the dresser, and I take it and sheathe it with a flourish.

I trudge downstairs and am greeted by the sight of my two best friends thoughtfully eating everything on the breakfast table like wolves. Charles and Susanne sit at opposite ends of the rectangular table, scarfing down whatever they can.

Charles notices me first, through an insipid mask of jam and toast crumbs. "Hey, Kal. Wakey-wakey." he says, waving a fork in my direction.

"Why don't you shutty-uppy?" my best morning voice snarls, and Charles decides to turn his attention away. Susanne Lacrian greets me with a less airy, but more helpful line. "Good morning, Ancalas."

"Hey, Suzie." Her cheeks harden a bit before she continues chewing- frankly, she dislikes it when anyone calls her by anything other than her full name, and I know I'm about to get hell for it later. "So, guys, what's the plan for today?"

"Easy." Charles pushes his plate away and sketches an imaginary map on the tablecloth with the tines of his fork. "I've planned it all out last night. We'll head to Southperry and grab a few supplies there. The monsters there aren't too hard, either, so we'll get a decent bit of experience from that. And then we can head off to Amherst and maybe-"

Susanne looks only slightly amused, as I put three fingers against my forehead. "Never mind, Charles. We'll wing it as we go."

Charles looks aghast at this suggestion. "Wing it? Kal, are you crazy? What if we end up in the mushroom dungeons? I'm not looking forward to getting surrounded by a bunch of giant, orange, demonic fungi any time soon-"

"A little exploring never killed anyone, Charles." Susanne snaps flatly, dabbing delicately at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Though I've known Susanne since early childhood, I've never honestly thought of her as a girl, really- just a companion with long hair and a snappy, don't-mess-with-me attitude.

"Well, now that we've got _that _cleared up," I say, pushing aside my chair, "what say we start off?"

"Let's go." Susanne concurs, her dark, twelve-year-old hair waving as she stands up as well. Her hair's partly tied in a ponytail, giving her a look both cute and serious at the same time- not a good combination, as Charles and I are apt to know from years of experience.

"Winging it." Charles says, in a mock sing-song tone, as a razor-knife hangs at his belt. Behind him, I draw my blade and Susanne takes up her own sword, metal shining in the early rays of the morning.

We don't end up winging anything so much as we end up holding down Charles, but it turns out to be a pretty good run, nevertheless. We deliver a letter and get a bandana, and then end up having a spat about who would get to wear it. After some deliberation, it is finally decided that I should take care of it, lest it fall into the hands of some unsavory personage. And that I did admirably, guarding that bandana carefully as it rested around my head.

"We are done for." Charles moans for what seems the forty-ninth time, his face buried in his hands as we walk along the trodden paths of Maple Island. "Done for. I knew we should have gotten supplies-"

"Stop being so optimistic, Charles." Susanne snaps, elegantly slashing aside a snail with a quick motion of her arm. "You're always so paranoid…"

"Blame me for being cautious." Charles mutters, the tips of his ears pink. I can't help a smile at this brief exchange- all things considered, Charles has what you would call an infatuation with Susanne, and I find that even as he tries to get closer to her, she unknowingly moves farther away from him.

Good tidings for a twelve year-old, that.

The ground suddenly seems to shake under our feet, and we exchange pensive glances. Dreading the worst, I see a bead of sweat run down Charles' neck. Susanne is slightly calmer, as usual, merely holding her sword aloft.

"Kal." Charles' voice is uneven, scattered by his heavy breathing. "We are…on the road to Amherst, right?"

"Yes." I reply, though uneasily as well.

"Then why is the ground shaking?"

We know the answer instantaneously, but before we can truly realize what we're in, a sea of orange rises over the horizon, and a sudden storm of gigantic mushrooms hurtle towards us, murder on their minds. To be fair, there's only about eight or ten incoming, but when you're twelve and barely a beginner, each one is Mushmom herself in your mind.

Charles makes a faint squeaking noise, and Susanne remains poised. With no chance of escape, I can only pray that our skills with our meager weapons have advanced far enough to prove Charles' dim prophecy wrong.

"Go!" I shout, as I lunge myself forward in a desperate motion, the sword aloft in my palm. I see Charles and Susanne advance for a brief moment before reality sets in. The edge drives through the cap of a mushroom with surprising power and leaves a deep gash in the fungal matter. It whirls around and bounces at me, but I seize the upper hand; with renewed confidence, I slash it in a series of rapid sword swings, and there is a faint noise as it slumps back, its truncated body decorating the ground.

I glance up and see my two friends fighting valiantly, but there is no time to think because another imbecilic fungus has taken it upon itself to have an early breakfast. I jump over it, my sandal barely grazing its cap, and twist myself in a sideways slash through the air. The motion strains my arm, but it has the desired effect; the wounded monster flinches before I get to my feet and kill it with good measure.

If nothing else, Susanne fights elegantly, her sword tearing through the enemies that surround her with one slash after another. She strikes and ducks blows with equal measure, her hair dancing through the air as she struggles to remain alive in this linear world. One mushroom falls, then another, limp thuds against the ground.

As for Charles, well, he manages to survive. I will give him that. His dagger slashes the air as he strikes tentatively, his arms locked in position as he lunges wildly. The mushrooms bounce threateningly around him as he crosses his arms and slashes one after another, his eyes closed half out of fear, half from determination.

"Come on, Charles!" I shout, sheathing my sword. The corpses of several fungi are now laying the ground in wide ribbons. Susanne casts her amber eyes around the landscape pensively, her hawk-like gaze shooting through every tree and bush to ensure the last of the enemies have either fled or are decorating the ground.

Obviously biting his tongue, Charles steps forward and deals a surprisingly strong uppercut to the lone mushroom that is left attacking him. The mushroom seems to freeze in midair for the slightest frame of time before it collapses to the ground, a lurid rift decorating its front.

"Good for you, Verana." Susanne says, a faint, wine-dry smile crossing her features as she shoulders the curved blade of her sword against her dark hair.

The surface of the future bandit's cheeks gleam a soft rose-pink in the sunlight.

* * *

_**act III: soul of the swords (10)**_

"Well, this is where I leave you, I guess."

We're standing at the transport station in Lith Harbor, the sea breeze lapping at our cheeks, and Charles has slid a neatly-folded 100-meso bill across the counter to the ticketmaster for Kerning City.

"You'll meet us later, won't you?" I ask, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Sunlight reflects off his lenses briefly. "I will."

"Fair enough." Susanne shrugs, business as usual as her ponytail shimmers in the crisp air. "Be sure to send us a postcard when you get to Sin City."

Charles mutters something under his breath and disappears in a flash of white, spirited away in the wind to parts of Victoria Island unknown.

Susanne looks pointedly at me. "Is there something on your mind, Ancalas?"

"Huh? No." I turn around and hand a fistful of coins over the counter, receiving two tickets in return. The words_Perion Travel Ticket, 100 m _gleam briefly in my mind before Susanne takes ahold of my hand and a gust of light sends us to the abyss.

Moments later, the haze lifts, and sea breeze and palm trees are replaced by sandy cliffs and swirls of dust. She lets go of my hand and squints through the landscape. "Where do you think it is?"

"Odds are, it's on the most difficult-to-reach and god-forsaken crag in this city," I mutter, "which should be up there."

"You're a riot, Ancalas." Her voice bites my neck for a moment before she climbs up the side of a nearby cliff, using a swaying rope as leverage.

The cliffsides melt away to darkness as we enter the topmost building in Perion. The rocky exterior of the ritual chamber contrasts against the dark-rimmed walls and fires burning inside the complex. At the very end of the hall, the lone warrior chief sits, his eyes closed as he meditates.

Unsure of what to do, I finally settle for walking at a slow pace towards him. Though it isn't more than a few paces at most, it feels like several miles. I finally walk so close I can almost touch him, but he makes no signal that he sees us.

He finally opens his eyes, as though from a deep sleep. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

It takes me a moment to find my voice. "Uh…it was nothing."

His eyes sharpen, much like Susanne's, except the centers of his dark pupils are a deep crimson. The bloody shade causes me to jump a little, and I am not sure if Susanne has noticed as well.

"Everything is something in this world." he says, closing his eyes once more. Though his eyelids are shut, I can still swear that those orbs of deep red are watching my every move. "You must remember that if you wish to follow the path of the warrior."

Susanne breaks the silence next. "What more do we need?"

"A spirit of fire, a soul of stone, a tear of wood." he murmurs softly, his voice barely audible amidst the crackling flames. "They sing their tales, and yet we do not understand. Alone we are weak, and united we stand, yet even as we stand thus, our guardians must fall."

His eyes remain closed, and I am not sure what to say. Finally, he stands up. "I must apologize. I have been much preoccupied, as have the others. The duels of the sun and moon have much changed the face of this earth." He stands aside, and I can see a small altar, burning with flame. "If noble of spirit you are, then the flames of courage you must accept."

Breathing hard, I step up and move forward. The flames spit sparks at my fingers as I approach, and I shoot a questioning look at him. "Do you want-"

He nods, and nothing more.

I gingerly reach my hand out, but the flames sear my fingertips with unbelievable heat. I jerk back, and the surface of my hand is a blistered pink.

"I…I can't…" I whisper. True, I want to be a warrior, but damned if I have to burn my hand off doing so.

"Spirit of flame, Kal." Susanne whispers, a few paces behind me. "You need to have courage. The flames will only burn you if you let them."

Behind, he nods his head approvingly. "Very good, young one."

I close my eyes, and realize that the flames won't burn me, because _she _won't let them.

My hand thrusts forward, taking the last of my childhood innocence with it as it commits itself to the flames forever. The fire surrounds my hand and becomes silver, silver as the hair that falls over my eyes.

I draw it back, and the silver mark gleams on my palm forever.

"Congratulations." he nods, his eyes bowed as Susanne steps to the flames herself. "You are now a swordsman."

Seconds later, the two of us are standing in the dim room of Perion's armory, swords and chestplates reflecting stray rays of sun down on us.

"Wonder how Charles is doing." I muse quietly as I point to the blade of a longsword.

"Hopefully_he _isn't sticking his hand anywhere he shouldn't." Susanne mutters, eyeing the shining mark on her palm.

"Beautiful thought." The sound of metal sliding against metal rings through the room as our new weapons adorn our waists. "Let's train some. We're penniless now, and I doubt Charles is going to look forward to paying for lunch for three people."

"Agreed." The sunny hillsides of Perion greet us as we confront the dry, dusty landscape. Prey is not scarce; snails of all sizes and colors crawl across the ground as stumps trot across the paths. Other warriors, mostly our age, slash at the passing monsters with incredible zeal, hoping to become a legend someday.

For now, however, some pocket money will be sufficient.

Drawing the blade of my newest weapon, its blade glinting in the sun, I rush forward and bring a quick, swift death to the nearest snail.

Or, at least, that's what I would have done if it hadn't suddenly flown into the air at over a hundred miles an hour.

Stunned, I nearly lose my grip on the sword, its point clattering against the hard stone ground. Behind me, Susanne makes a weak noise of surprise- probably the only time she's ever done so.

Following its trail through the sunny sky, our eyes flicker toward a nearby ledge where another warrior, wielding a large sword, is surrounded by a large group of snails and stumps. Yet, something is wrong- the snails and stumps are walking, but they are frozen in midair. It is as if time has deserted them, leaving them to float helplessly in reality.

The warrior carves through his helpless victims with slash after slash, surrounding himself with a virtual treasure trove of shells and twigs. Catching our awed gaze, he smirks briefly before disappearing in a flash.

Susanne and I look briefly at each other before charging forward and looting as much of the leftover treasure as we can before the other warriors trample us in getting their own share of the plunder. Though snail shells and tree branches aren't exactly the best of investments one can make, we raise enough money to buy a decent meal in the end, as well as money for a taxi ride.

The trip to Kerning City is uneventful, mostly due to the lack of flying monsters. The poisonous neon glow of the lights blanket the city like a fog, and with some effort, we reach the flat apartment of the dimly-lit fusion bar. Charles is waiting, his legs crossed on a bar stool as he rests his fingers on the counter. A field dagger gleams at his belt.

"Took you long enough." he says, fluorescent lights gleaming from his lenses.

"We were held up." Susanne says, perching herself on the stool two seats away from him. I end up sitting between them. "Some idiot was levitating snails and stumps all over the place, if you can believe that…"

"Actually, I can." Charles replies, signaling to the bartender for a glass of water. "Nearly got killed by a flying mushroom in an alley minutes ago, by some assassin." His face glowers for a moment as he stares down at the chrome counter.

"Really?" I mutter, tracing a line along the counter with a finger. It comes up dark with grime.

"They're part of an organized underworld group, from what I've heard." Charles folds his hands against the cold surface of the counter. "They call themselves Tsukuyomi."

* * *

_**act IV: moonlight's song (25)**_

"Mushrooms today, then?"

"Ah, no, I hate the tree dungeons. You know people always go there…"

"Better than the wild boar lands in Perion. You know there's going to be at least ten people killing each other just to get a freakin' break…"

"Fine. We'll flip a coin- heads, we stay in Ellinia, tails, we go to Perion." There is a flash of metal in the air as I catch the coin squarely on the palm of my hand and flip it over. "Heads. We're staying."

Charles' face clicks down a shade of white, and settles for shooting the table a nasty glare. "Where's Susanne?" he finally asks, glancing upwards.

"She's training. Like we should be doing right now, as a matter of fact." The blade of a large broadsword glimmers against my back as I turn towards the door. "Why are you so interested in her, anyway?"

He doesn't answer, but he never needs to. He merely picks up the dagger lying on near the desk, blade first, and sheathes it near his waist with a fluid motion.

"I guess those mushrooms aren't going to kill themselves today." he finally says, pushing past me and out the door, into the calm forest. Chainmail rustles and wood scrapes as I follow after him, wind streaking the forest canopy above.

The tree dungeons, unfortunately, are very much crowded- Charles ends up being right at the most inconvenient of times. Leave it to future bandits to be harbingers of doom when you need one. People, most noticeably magicians, proliferate the landscape as bursts of fiery magic flash past every second.

"I knew this was a great idea, Kal." Charles mutters, fingering the edge of his dagger.

"Yeah, yeah." A magical breeze of sparks ruffles my hair for a moment. "We would have gotten killed at boars anyway." With a sweep of my arm, I unsheathe the broadsword. "Let's just make do with what we can."

"Making do" turns out to be harder than expected when you're surrounded by groups of greedy magicians, unfortunately. Of the two dozen or so ledges in the entire tree dungeon, Charles and I only control about four, which isn't exactly the best circumstance if you want to make the second-job advancement as soon as possible.

I carve repeatedly through the air with the gigantic metal brand, calling upon the particles of mana around me to strike. The blade bursts with crimson energy as it strikes down the mushrooms one after another. Behind me, Charles slashes down the fungi with crossed arms, his dagger glinting in the dim light. Though I can't seem to admit it, he's changed from the timid boy in Maple Island to an able and dexterous rogue in the short span of a few months.

Out of nowhere, two Steely knives rip through the air and come inches short of missing me, striking the prey that I was about to claim. My head whips around, and there's an assassin smirking behind me, twirling a couple of kunai about his index finger. His appearance is rather garish- there's a scar on his left cheek and another on his forehead. His hair is a night-black color, but it is streaked with sharp tails of white- much like a skunk.

Something tells me he's probably going to be just as friendly.

Charles breaks the uneasy silence first. "What the hell do you want?"

"Nothing, really." He spins the knives some more before flicking his wrist. Another mushroom squeals and slumps to the ground in front of us. "I'm just looking for a pan lid, really. You know they're rather difficult to get on the free market."

"Would it kill you to not bother us doing so?" I shoulder my sword and give him a glare, as though hoping it'll intimidate someone at least 10 levels higher than I am.

He ignores the look on my face. "Too troublesome. This dungeon's only big enough for a couple of people, and I can tell you- you aren't either of them."

"Try it!" Immediately, Charles and I leap down and slash wildly at the fungi that dot the ledge, hoping to sneak in some kills just to annoy him, if nothing more. Despite the fact that he's a ranged attacker and we only have blades, we outnumber him two to one, so the level of kills almost evens out.

"Well, I can see you two brats aren't going away any time soon." he snarls, pressing his hands together. "Tsukuyomi, attack!"

At the sound of his voice, every magician in the dungeon turns their head, and suddenly, Charles and I can barely blink for the amount of light that is exploding through the cavern. No matter where we go, a blast of magical energy always beats us to the punch, stealing our prey right before us.

Finally, a mushroom spawns in front of me, its progress unhindered by any, but as I raise my sword, a knife flings itself out from nowhere, and it slumps to the ground. A flash of metal shimmers in the light.

Out of nowhere, the assassin's white hair gleams in the dim cavern, and there is a gust of wind as something rushes past me with supersonic speed. Next thing I know, he's smirking arrogantly at me, a shiny pan lid clutched in his hand.

"That was mine!" I indignantly protest, raising my sword, but he merely laughs. "It's a dog-eat-dog world, idiot, and apparently…you're the dog."

The magicians laugh, their combined voices echoing off the walls of the dungeon, and I can't take it any more.

"_Say that to my face!" _I bellow, all caution thrown to the wind as my sword lunges forward.

In the split second that I see his face, he is only calm, and in the next moment, something hard and heavy crashes into me head-on. Thrown backwards and dazed, I see the object that has just collided into me; a green-capped mushroom.

"What-"

"Know this." His voice is calm and forbidding. "My name is Constantine, and if you ever- I mean, _ever- _come and disturb the legions of Tsukuyomi again, I will make you regret it. Now get out."

Staggering to my knees, I'm not sure if I'm crying. There is a gigantic bruise underneath my armor where the mushroom has smacked me, and I can't bear to look anymore, as words flow through my head, dog, dog, _you're _the dog, now leave.

I can feel Charles' hand briefly touch my shoulder before my eyes meet the sunlight once more, rays piercing under my closed eyelids and illuminating my sight bloody red.

Charles doesn't say anything.

* * *

_**act V: crucifixion (25)  
**_

Susanne's quiet when I tell her the story.

"Those bastards." she finally says, turning her attention to the table. Charles is sitting across from us, his eyes focused on the wooden surface of the table as well. He's tracing something on it with a knife.

"I…I mean, I just don't get it." Hair blows into my face through a breeze from the open window, and I brush it aside. "Who- or what- is this group? What is their ultimate goal?"

"Assault with intent to annoy." Charles mutters, flicking sawdust into the air.

"No, it can't be." Susanne murmurs, almost whimsically. "Charles saw one in Kerning City, and you just saw a whole group of them in Ellinia-"

"And there was the one in Perion." I add, rubbing a bit of rust off the edge of my broadsword. "With the snails and all."

Susanne breathes out deeply. "We don't _know _if he was a member or not-"

"He must have been; it's the same pattern." I lean back in the chair. "You don't see flying monsters every day."

Silence hangs over our heads, broken only by the whittling noise of Charles' knife.

"Well, whatever." Susanne finally mutters, looking rather annoyed. "The point is, I don't think it's just a couple of localized incidents. They've got to be connected somehow. Kal, this could be bigger than anyone thinks."

"Well, of course- flying monsters aren't really any kind of picnic." Charles says, in a noncommittal sort of tone.

Susanne's gaze flickers between us two. "What about Constantine?"

"You mean the assassin?" Briefly, I rack my brains to that unpleasant memory. "Well, he was strong, at least. He was at least level 35. Maybe more."

"35 isn't that strong." Susanne counters, resting her fingertips against the round table. "I've seen people in the free market over 70."

"In any case, he was using Steelies," Charles says coolly, "and we all know _those _don't just drop from the sky."

"Well, if a level 35 member of Tsukuyomi's using Steelies and can make monsters fly," I mutter, "I'd hate to see what the level 70 guys can do."

"Be that as it may," Susanne says, pushing aside her chair and standing up, "I need your help today. You know that fairy, Arwen, that lives above us- she lost a glass slipper in Perion, and I need to find it for her. Think you're up for a trip to the Burnt Lands?"

"You owe us a favor." Charles grumbles, but he sheathes his dagger without complaint. Truth be told, I think he would have done a favor for Susanne any day even if it involved jumping into a lake full of acid.

"Why, thank you, that's why I keep you two around here." Susanne smiles dryly and pirouettes her sword between her fingers before sheathing it. "Come on, Ancalas."

A brief taxi ride and three thousand mesos later, we are back on the familiar plains of Perion, the sun beating down upon us. Metal shines in the light as footsteps echo across the plain, the sound of destiny as we, the three heroes, set off to rescue the fairy's glass slipper from the clutches of the evil fire boars.

Well, that's what it felt like at the time, anyway.

"We'll only be able to fight them one at a time, so stay close." Susanne warns. The edge of her golden blade glimmers in the light as Charles and I shuffle along, somewhat reluctantly.

As it turns out, we don't have to wait very long; a wisp of smoke floats into the air before a loud growl pierces the air, and all of a sudden, a large-tusked boar, flames leaping along its body, is rushing at us, intending to make us into lunch- or worse.

I don't know who strikes first, but the gleam of metal shines in the light as a squeal of pain is heard, and all of a sudden Charles, Susanne, and I are lunging forward with weapons in hand and cutting the poor thing to shreds. Not long after, it finally stops moving, and we find no sign of a glass slipper.

"Only nine hundred ninety-nine more to go." Charles mutters, his tone slightly acid-laced as usual.

"Cheer up once in a while, Verana." Susanne mutters, her hair flitting in the breeze. "You don't want to die lonely with only Kal to comfort you…"

Both of us blanch, and I think I can almost hear the bandit's soul dying a little.

Either one or ten hours later, the sun is still as hot as ever, and none of us have made any progress footwear-wise. Charles is the first, as usual, to communicate his displeasure.

"I'm beat." he mutters, wiping sweat from his forehead. His face is the color of badly-mixed strawberry ice cream, and every pore on his body seems to be working overtime.

"Have one of these." Susanne says, throwing a blue-filled vial at him. He catches it in midair and grimaces before downing the flask in one gulp. "Hate this stuff."

"It's an acquired taste, I guess." She washes down half the bottle before stowing the rest away in her shoulder bag. "Are you all right, Kal?" There is a sudden gentleness in her voice that I've never heard before.

"I'm fine." Silently, I stare across the dusty plains and drain a orange-colored flask of my own, thinking of Constantine.

_You're the dog. Now get out._

"I'm not," I whisper softly into the wind, but Charles and Susanne don't hear.

"Let's go back and rest." The bandit wipes his glasses, steamy with perspiration. "It's hot as hell out here, and still no sign of a glass shoe. Maybe one of the boars accidentally ate it and died of indigestion, you never know."

"That would be a nice thought." Susanne remarks dryly, before turning back to me. "It's up to you, Kal. Do you want to head back?"

"Fine, I guess." Stretching my arms out, I gaze briefly towards the sun before turning my eyes away. "If nothing else, I suppose we can have lunch now."

Susanne blinks before muttering something that sounds like "you two are pansies" and drawing a blue-tinted scroll from her pocket before disappearing in a flash.

Charles looks at the place where she was moments ago before turning his gaze upwards and shaking his head. "Women."

"Maybe we should have asked her for the scrolls before she left." I grumble, sheathing the broadsword and motioning for Charles to follow along.

An unpleasant and hot walk later, Charles and I finally leave the arid plateaus of Perion land and enter the side city gate. Not that it's any less humid inside the city limits than outside, but the shade is, at least, more abundant.

The apothecary's tent offers a bit more relief than the cliffsides, and sure enough, a dark-haired girl is already sitting cross-legged on a cushion, sipping tea.

It isn't Susanne, though.

She tosses her head back, and a beautiful cascade of night gently falls through the air, and at that moment, it feels as though my world has melted away in one fell swoop.

Charles' voice breaks the window of my reverie. "Do you mind if we sit here?"

Her voice mends it once more. "No, go ahead."

Body hits the ground with a soft thud, and I muster the courage to look up.

Beautiful. She's beautiful.

"…you're here for that shoe too?"

"Yeah." Charles brushes dark hair from his eyes. "Totally big pain in the arse, if you ask me."

She giggles, a sound so sweet I can't believe it exists upon earth. "I never got your names."

"Ah. I'm Charles Verana, and this is Kal Ancalas." My field of vision swims as her eyes gaze briefly into mine. "We have another friend, Susanne Lacrian, coming. She should have been here ages ago, but I don't-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting." There's a rustle of fabric as someone sits next to me, and I can hear Susanne's blunt tone. "I was prowling the free market to see if anyone found it, but no luck." Her gaze wanders to the other girl. "Who's-"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I haven't introduced myself." She smiles and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. "My name's Elisabeth. Elisabeth Caelis."

"Really?" For the first time, I notice she's wearing a wide-rimmed hat and has a jeweled staff tucked underneath her knees. "You're a magician?"

"Well, sort of." A pink blush comes over her cheeks, and I find myself marveling at her- well, if any word could describe it, _innocence. _Despite the fact that she was in her teens, she sounded like a child half her age.

I wasn't sure whether that was such a bad thing.

"I've always wanted to be a cleric, you know." She gently taps the head of her staff with her foot. "Holy magic and all that, it looks really fun. I've never really liked fire or lightning much, anyway…"

She falls silent as Charles and Susanne get into a brief argument about what to order for lunch; Charles is all for pizza, while Susanne pushes for salad.

My fingers wave at her, but I don't think she notices.

* * *

_**act VI: dragonheart (30)  
**_

"Page, huh?"

"I happen to _like _elemental powers, Susanne." My cheeks flare an indignant pink.

"Yeah, well, don't come crying to me when you start getting beat down by magic-resistant beasties, Ancalas."

"Shut up." I turn my attention away from her face and lean against the cliffside. "Just because we've been childhood friends doesn't mean I'm not going to push you off this ledge."

"Try it and see." Susanne returns, running a hand through her hair.

She isn't wearing her ponytail today.

"Where's Charles?" I ask. "Is he getting eaten by Ligators or something?"

"No, I wish." She glances upwards as though trying to read the time from the sun. "He said he'd meet us in Kerning City at two past noon, and it's one-thirty now."

"And…Elisabeth?" It hurts when I say her name, and I realize I've bitten my tongue.

"She said same place, same time." Susanne's eyes briefly narrow before she tugs at her gauntlets. "Let's go. After that test, I bet you're just _dying _to spend some money on new equipment."

"Brilliant idea, but we barely _have _any money anymore." I twine a strand of silver hair between my fingers. "If you recall, Charles made us spend nearly half our money on potions because he was afraid we'd be slaughtered."

"I appreciate his foresight, though." Susanne breathes outward and cracks her knuckles. "Fighting all those homicidal monkeys was no picnic."

"We'll try the free market." I say, walking along the beaten stone paths. "Maybe we'll find a bargain or something, I don't know…"

"Though I really don't enjoy bargain hunting, we do have an extra half hour." Susanne shrugs disconsolately. "Let's go."

The Victorian Free Market is truly one of the Seven Wonders of the not-so-ancient world- if you take the time to appreciate it. People of all classes and ability are here, hawking their wares and striking deals in the hope that they will be able to make the trade of a lifetime. Millions, no, _billions _of mesos are passing through this system at any given moment. A dark-haired axeman and blonde-haired swordsman are comparing weapons in the shade of a nearby tree, while a somber-looking ranger nearby inspects a set of knives. Treasures are here, just waiting to be found.

"Over there." Susanne points to a dingy-looking stall titled "WARRIOR EQUIPS FOR SALE". Behind it, a gruff-looking warrior is standing there, presiding over racks of slightly tarnished swords, axes, and spears. Coats of armor hang on hooks on the side of the walls.

"Take your pick." He folds his arms across his chest as we approach, his auburn hair rippling at his heavily muscled shoulders.

"Ooh, look!" Susanne points to a spear lying near the side of the rack. Its handle, shaft, and blade are a pure crystalline blue. Its glare reflects the sunlight back tenfold. "How much is that?"

"That's my Fairfrozen," the man says calmly, "and it's not for sale."

"Ah, okay." she says, before casting a glance at the armor decorating the walls. "How much for those shirts, then?"

"Thirty thousand each." he says bluntly, a passive look spreading across his face.

Susanne's face falls slightly. "But they're only level 30 shirts, and you've got to be at least a hundred." she says, a bit too sweetly for her normal voice. "Couldn't you spare, you know, twenty thousand each?"

"Business is business." he says stoically, refusing to budge one way or the other.

Susanne blinks briefly. "Fine. You know, it's just so hard to buy things these days for us. Our parents died when were nine, and we've had to raise our younger brother by ourselves. It's been really hard on us- but I guess that doesn't concern you." she adds quietly, digging exaggeratedly into her pockets.

"You're siblings?" He raises an eyebrow at Susanne's dark brown hair and my own silver-shaded locks.

"He's…adopted." Susanne bites her tongue briefly.

"Tell you what- for the show, I'll make it 45 thousand flat for the both of them." There's a trace of amusement on his face, as though these teenaged kids are going to catch him- a level 100+ Dragon Knight- off-guard.

"Fair enough." Susanne mutters, though her face is sour as she hands over the bills. The man raises an eyebrow amusedly. "Next time you want to get a discount, I'd suggest stuffing cotton under your shirt than trying the poor orphan routine."

Susanne's face goes a pallid shade of white, and I think I nearly wet myself trying not to laugh.

"I'd like to see _you _try better." she mutters mutinously as we walk away, probably devising a plan for my untimely and painful demise in her head as she speaks.

"Well, we'll see." The wind blows across my face as the sounds of banter rise into the sky. "We still haven't gotten new weapons yet."

"Great day to be a two-handed swordsman, Kal." Susanne remarks as we walk along. "Scimitars are bloody expensive."

"We'll manage." I say, though my heart does twinge a little. Though 100,000 mesos are a tidy sum, it is a long shot when you have to pay for two swords, one of which whose price and availability are specially designed to crash the world economy and make sure it never rises again.

"Over there." she whispers, yanking my wrist, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in front of a tidy stall marked simply _**Swords**_True to its name, blades of all shapes and sizes line the walls and racks of the orderly space. Greatswords with blades nearly as tall as a person are stacked against the far wall, while smaller, nimbler rapiers are lined carefully in cases near the counter.

"How much is this?" Susanne holds up a gladius, its edge slightly weathered but otherwise in near-perfect condition.

The man behind the counter flashes a smile that looks like it was pasted on by someone. "For you, pretty, I'll sell it for the low, low price of 25,000 mesos."

Susanne grimaces, but acquiesces and hands over the money. Now I have only about 75,000 mesos with which to buy my newest weapon.

I see the object of my desire hanging on a hook in the far corner. Its gigantic blade is slightly rusty, but it is a good rust- a rust that lends it a seasoned charm. The watered steel shines in the afternoon sun, and my thoughts become single-minded: want, want, I want that sword, no matter what.

"How much?" I ask simply, my fingers trailing towards the direction of the heavy weapon.

He casts a pensive look at it before answering. "250,000 mesos."

"What?!" A momentary pulse of anger flashes through my brain. "That's ten times what you charged her for the gladius!"

"Scimitars aren't easy to make- or find, for that matter." The proprietor casually wipes his nose with the back of his hand, dismissing my outburst as such. "Plus, you're not cute."

"Give me a freakin' break!" I try to bluff him. "I could find one easily for _half _that price!"

"Then go buy it somewhere else. No one's stopping you." He casually wipes the counter with a grimy rag, and I wince. _Dammit. He's good._

"Is there…a problem?" a smooth, yet cold voice asks, and I nervously turn around.

Two paces away from me, a hunter is standing, eyeing the counter and the man behind it with an air of disdain. Though he only looks a year or two older than either of us, there is just something about him that makes him look more dangerous than he is. Sharp Samson hair, oaken in color, hangs from his head in straight bangs. A Ryden lays neatly in the quiver on his back. His fingers twitch at his side as though he's already pulling the string.

"Ah- Montag." The shopkeeper gulps briefly, looking like someone who just swallowed vinegar. "I wasn't expecting-"

"There's a lot of things you never expect, idiot." Montag replies coldly, passing his eyes briefly over the counter. "What were you trying to buy?" he asks, his gaze flickering to me.

Inwardly, I flinch a little- his eyes are cold orbs of icy blue. "That." I point to the scimitar, hanging silently on its hook on the wall.

"And how much was he asking?" he inquires. The shopkeeper seems to twitch, like someone headed for the guillotine.

"Two- two hundred fifty thousand."

"Well. That's a nice development." The hunter's cold eyes flicker back to the shopkeeper, who by now, has just lost all dignity. "You should know it's not nice to cheat people, Foland."

"I…was trying to make a profit." Foland mutters, his greasy eyes slightly narrowed in a display of lame sheepishness.

"Two hundred fifty thou? For chrissake you are." Montag dangerously runs a hand across his forehead. "It's worth 150 on the open market and not a cent more."

"We only have 75,000 left." Susanne mumbles, her eyes scurrying away from Montag's frigid glare. Though she isn't showing it, I can tell she's intimidated- but then again, who wouldn't?

"Fair enough. I'll cover the deficit." In a fluid, practiced motion, the hunter calmly slides a stack of bills across the counter. "Now, be a good boy and hand it over."

As Susanne quietly peels the bills from the inside of her pocket, the owner takes the scimitar from its hook and hands it to me with a sour look. I can see any number of four-letter oaths hanging on the tip of his tongue at this moment, but I know he doesn't have the guts to utter any of them.

Montag begins walking away, and eager not to stay any longer, Susanne and I follow. When we are out of earshot, I breathe, "Thanks. I'll definitely pay you back someday-"

"Don't bother. It's actually worth 200K, but I just don't like him." He stops walking, but doesn't turn back, either.

Slightly put out, I chew nervously on the tip of my tongue. "Well…thanks anyway, Montag-"

"It's Drake." The hunter's oaken hair flutters in the wind. "I've never been keen on being called by my last name."

"Umm…right, Drake. Well, thanks for the help."

He merely grunts in reply and walks away, disappearing into the stream of people that are coming out from the market branches.

"That was…" Biting my tongue, I search for the right word, but can't find one.

Susanne touches my arm. "I know."

We arrive in Kerning City, new equipment in tow. Sure enough, Charles and Elisabeth are lounging at the _fusion _bar, drinking something which on closer inspection turns out to be water. The former raises a hand halfheartedly. "What took you two so long?"

"Oh, you know, we were…haggling." I admit nonchalantly.

"Well, no wonder you were so late." Elisabeth says, her eyes focused on us. "That scimitar must have cost a _fortune."_

Susanne and I briefly exchange looks before sitting down. "Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"Not hungry." Charles replies bluntly, sliding a few coins across the counter. "We were discussing where to go train when you showed up."

"How about Ellinia?" Susanne suggests.

"It's too far to walk, and I don't feel like taking the taxi." Charles replies calmly. Truthfully, though, I know he's tired of staying in the musty tree dungeons for another day, and I don't blame him. I almost feel the same way.

"We could try the party quest." Charles says, but Elisabeth crushes his suggestion with a wave of her hand. "Don't bother. I've tried it countless times before, and it's not worth it. You have to wait at least two or three hours to get in just for about ten minutes of fun. Besides, there's only four of us, and we need six people."

"Well- do you have any ideas?" I ask. My eyes flicker towards Elisabeth, though inadvertently.

"The subway?" Charles mutters half-jokingly, but Susanne and Elisabeth, unfortunately, don't see the humor.

"I can't believe it, Charles." Susanne shakes her head in an unintended display of flair. "You actually came up with a semi-decent idea for once."

Though I try to give him an apologetic glance, it comes out more as ridicule, and he turns away from me, his face shadowed. Tickets for entrance into the subway are quickly bought, and we venture into the rusted passageways underneath Kerning City.

One thing I notice about the place is that it is peaceful. Save for the soft hums and squishes of blue-tinted slimes bouncing about, there is no sign of human life whatsoever. The rumble of subways that pervaded the ancient halls once upon a time is no longer present.

"See you've found your way down here."

I turn around, and Drake is standing at the far end of the hall, an impassive look plastered upon his face. I notice he's changed his clothes- he's wearing a crimson-colored chain mail set and a three-cornered hat. A red-white fanged bow rests in his closed fist.

"Drake!" I try to hide my surprise and shock. "What are you doing-"

"I needed some fresh air." Drake replies, raising his bow. There's a squeal as a slime near us suddenly deflates and collapses, two arrows stuck through its gelatinous gut. "Ant Tunnel's filled with hackers this time of day."

"Hackers?" My tongue slides over the unfamiliar word.

"Yeah. Hackers. You know, the scum of the earth." Drake fits another arrow to his bow. "They call themselves Tsukuyomi, but people commonly refer to them as thus." He exhales softly and lets the string go. Another slime collapses into a puddle behind us. "I can tell you, it's no picnic trying to train with them around."

"You…know Tsukuyomi?" I manage to say.

"Know them?" Drake laughs coldly. "I've been dogging them for ages. Remember Foland- the slug that was selling the swords? He's a member. Don't you know he's been a front for them for ages? He sells the items that they loot at insane prices, all for a cut of the price." He shakes his head as his willowy hair flutters near his shoulders. "It's disgusting."

"But…that can't be." Susanne mutters. "He could never sell anything at those prices to make a profit…"

Drake shakes his head, obviously dismayed. "Sweetheart, he can, and he_ does. _He's not the only one fronting for Tsukuyomi. You have to realize that damn near three-quarters of the merchants in the entire free market are hacker-employed. Tsukuyomi likes to keep total control of the things it supervises. Training areas, item sales, you name it. It's a much bigger problem than anyone thinks."

"Then what are _you _doing here, instead of going out and spreading the word about them?" Charles retorts.

"You think I can?" Drake's icy eyes glare resentfully towards the deserted subway tracks. "That would practically be a suicide call for anyone. This is how they've managed to stay afloat for so long. Intimidation. You make a call, and they'll trace it, and when they do, it's not going to be pretty." He sighs once more, silently plucking the string of his bow. "It's a cruel cycle."

"But isn't there anything we can do?" Elisabeth pleads, her voice sounding painfully sweet.

Drake's eyes seem to dilate for a moment before he answers. "No. Nothing." He slides his bow into his quiver with a neat motion and turns away. "I'd advise you to start sleeping mornings. You want to train, train at the Ant Tunnel during midnight, when it isn't so crowded."

With that, he walks away, his oaken hair sweeping the wind as he disappears deeper into the subway.

* * *

_**act VII: the enemy of my enemy (40)  
**_

Steel sweeps the air, slaughtering all in its path.

That is all I realize as I stand on the plains of Perion, the heavy blade of my greatsword rending enemies into unrecognizable bits. Sunlight flashes in large arcs, reflecting the brand's deadly path through the dry air. Crimson bursts of energy illuminate the landscape as energy rushes from my arms into my sword, granting me the power to strike down my enemies where they stand.

Wishful thinking.

Briefly, I curse Charles, as his loose, light clothing is a lot more comfortable in the arid weather than this bulky plate armor. I think of calling his name, but my throat hurts from the dust, and he's too absorbed in his own work to talk.

As I watch from a distance, he carves his wrists through the air, stabbing and slashing in an impeccable series of bursts. His strikes flow effortlessly into one another as his limbs move like water. The skills of a bandit are not lost on him, I think, as I turn away and lunge at a fire boar that is mere steps away from me.

I close my eyes and let spirit suffuse me as the heavy sword moves, seemingly of its own accord. The darkened steel blade rends through its enemies effortlessly, its weight next to nothing in my hands.

Charles speaks up after a long period of silence. "Anyone coming?"

It takes a moment for me to find my voice. "No."

"Good." Charles balances the hilt of his dagger on the tip of his finger, his eyes shadowed behind his glasses. "Now wouldn't be a good time to run into Tsuku."

"Any time wouldn't, Charles." Slumping against the ancient stump of a tree, I drain a blue-colored elixir and wince at its taste before shattering the bottle with a swipe of my sword. Glass flies through the air in a crescendo of lighted shards.

He pensively flicks the blade into the air and catches it with his eyes closed, then murmurs a single word into the air. Though I can't hear what he's saying, I don't need to.

"We should be trying Zombie Lupins." he says, after some time. "Shinkitas cost an arm and a leg these days."

"We don't have a cleric. Do you feel like dodging bananas all day?"

"We could ask Elisabeth." Charles says, off-handedly.

"No, we can't. We barely see her as it is- she lives near Lith Harbor." I turn away, hoping he won't see the slight tinge of rose my face has acquired. "Why don't you ask Susanne?"

Charles mumbles something about not wanting to disturb anyone, and I can't help a smirk. Raking a studded hand across my forehead, I take up the large blade and fall to slaughtering more flaming pigs.

"I toldyou if you came back, I'd make you regret it."

_…_oh,_shit._

Gritting my teeth and clenching the handle of my sword so hard it hurts, I turn around, and who should I see but Constantine. There's a cap slung over his head, a cape upon his back. He's wearing a tight, neat-trim outfit. But most ominously, he's got a large Shinkita blade clutched in his right hand and a handful of Steelies ringed around the fingers of his left.

"What do _you _want?" Charles growls, his dagger poised.

"You squirts shouldn't even be here." Constantine replies, his arms folded impassively. Points of metal stick from underneath his elbows, giving him the appearance of a demented porcupine.

"It's free territory, and we can go wherever we want." Charles snaps, his glasses glinting dangerously.

"It's only free for those strong enough to control it." he retorts, uncrossing his arms. "Go back to Maple Island, and make sure I never see you again."

"Like hell we will, _asshole!" _I roar, all semblance of composure gone to the wind.

His eyes shine dangerously before there's a brilliant, short flash of light, and the next thing I know, six Steelies have left his hands and are now buried in the bodies of several still-twitching fire boars on the ground.

_How…how did he do that? _My mind wants to scream at the impossibility- it can't be, it just can't be, there's no way he could have done that, not at his level.

"Weak." Constantine sneers, a manic snarl crossing his face. "Let me show you what _true _power is…"

And before I can blink, he closes his eyes and folds his arms, and then all of a sudden, I can hear squealing as fire boars shoot through the air like cannonballs, propelled by some unknown force. With deadly conviction, the Shinkita carves mercilessly through the air, slaughtering the fire boars in inhumane numbers as his left hand glows with arcane energy.

Constantine's eyes are closed as his body moves in a waltz of death, the Shinkita slicing the air at supernatural speeds. The boars are being pulled by some unknown force, unable to squeal or even run away as the dagger rips apart their bodies. It is terrifyingly, horrifyingly, efficient- a spectacle of utter destruction.

"_Stop!"_The word is out before I can think, my hands clenching into fists.

He pauses briefly, a painfully drawn thread of time connecting us both. "Why should I? They're monsters, nothing more than worthless particles of matter. Like you."

"It's not right!" A gust of wind blows across the landscape, leaving a ghostly wail in the air. "You're slaughtering them!"

"Is that any different from what you do all day?" Constantine snaps, looking thoroughly bored.

"You…you can't." I whisper hollowly, and at that moment, I know I can never hope to win. Reasoning with him would be all but futile.

Though I know I cannot win, I have no choice.

With a savage cry, I draw the gigantic sword in my grasp and rush forward, the landscape becoming a blur. I stab forward and meet resistance as Constantine blocks the attack almost lazily- with a motion of his left wrist, I can feel pain searing my right cheek and I realize I've been cut.

Ignoring the pain, the blood, the absolute futility of it all, I charge once more, and sparks reave the air as the weapons make contact. Charles joins the fight as well, his knife riding the wind as he lunges forward with a series of slashes. Undaunted, Constantine blocks all our attacks- how he does it with only one dagger and one arm, I may never know.

The last thing I see is his dichromatic hair, shades of sharp black and white cutting my vision, before he strikes.

"Pathetic…_dog."_he whispers softly, his voice barely audible.

Then all of a sudden I can feel myself being thrown through the air by some invisible force, and pain explodes through my body as he stabs me. I can see the elongated blade of his Shinkita ripping my armor, tearing through everything underneath, and then the _pain, _it feels like I'm being ripped apart at the seams. Blood gushes forth from the wound, staining the thirsty ground a dark bronze.

He stabs again, and again, until the pain reaches its peak and I can go no longer and everything feels like one entire cohesive burst, and by Goddess, it _hurts _and I know I'm going to die and I prepare to lose myself to the pain-

-and then it is over.

I drop to the ground as the blade slides out of me in one last, painful retreat. Pain clouds my vision, dragging me deeper into its abyss, and everything is either white, black, or dark red. I can see the figure of Charles lying on his side, his glasses askew. Blood stains the ground underneath him as well.

Constantine looks at us with an unreadable expression, the edge of his weapon still gleaming with crimson tears, until he turns away and sheathes it.

"You're nothing, dreck." he hisses, walking away, and sometime between this moment and the next, I can no longer see him.

Weakly, I put a hand to my stomach and wince as another wave of pain overtakes me. I know he's missed my internal organs- deliberately, so he can watch me suffer without the courtesies of death- but the pain is tangible enough, and it clouds my vision red with every step.

I pull a flask of white out from my inventory and drink it, almost expecting to see it come spewing back out through the holes Constantine's invented in my body, but the pain recedes enough to the point that I can stand up. Carefully, I make my way to Charles, his garments torn and stained a deep vermillion color. He's breathing, but barely.

"Wake up." I whisper softly, tucking my hand underneath his head and gently shaking him. His eyes flutter open, ever so painstakingly, and I can see desperation in his pupils.

"S…Susanne…" he coughs deliriously, blood seeping from his mouth, and his eyes slide in and out of focus.

"No! Come on, Charles, you _have _to get through this!" I snarl, shaking him by the shoulders, halfway on the verge of crying myself. I pull another white out and force it to his pale lips, and tip his head backwards. He chokes and splutters on the stuff at first, but he thankfully manages to revive enough to drink the rest under his own power.

"Kal…" he moans, the color steadily returning to his face. "Sorry…"

"Don't worry about it." Quickly, I unfurl a blue-tinted scroll and grasp ahold of his hand, and a comfortable flash of light deposits us near the apothecary.

Thankfully, Susanne and Drake are standing nearby, and given that we both collapse upon landing, Susanne rushes over with a worried expression on her face. It's one of the rare times she's ever done anything feminine.

"What_happened _to you two?" she gasps, touching my cheek lightly. Though her voice is nearly normal, there's a tear in her left eye.

"…Constantine…" I manage to sputter, dried blood staining my face.

Susanne's face whitens, and Drake's eyes narrow as a truly scary look comes into his eyes- the look of someone determined to revenge someone, no matter what. It's as if a demon has taken control of his body, leaving nothing but a soulless shell behind.

"Bastard." the hunter finally mutters, his knuckles white upon his bow as he leaves towards the city gates.

Susanne touches her hand to my cheek once more, but I push her away as my eyes follow Drake's retreating figure into the fog.

My heart beats softly as everything fades into the sunset, Charles, Susanne, and Drake, and I am left with nothing except the cries of my own tormented shadow, nothing except the scars of my own weakness.

_You're nothing, dreck._

* * *

**And that wraps up Part II of Way One Moves Time.**

**Make sure you put your reviewing caps on, because Part III is where all the fun stuff (people exploding, four-letter-words, angsty sex scenes, etc.) happens. Some other characters that haven't been introduced in this chapter (Clarias, Thaler, etc.) will make their appearances next time around. **

**In true Kal Ancalas fashion, here are the act titles for Part III (just to stimulate your reviewing glands):**

**Act VIII: Whispers of the Stones (50)  
**

**Act IX: The Secret of Amaterasu (60)  
**

**Act X: Lightning Blade (65)  
**

**Act XI: Valhalla (70)  
**

**Act XII: Innocence's Requiem (75)  
**

**Act XIII: Betrayal of the Most Divine (80)  
**

**Act XIV: Time Only Moves One Way (90)  
**

**Act XV: Such Sweet Sorrow (95)  
**

**Act XVI: Last Tether To Life (100)  
**

**Act XVII: The Asgardian Transion (100)  
**

**And before you ask, "transion" is not a typo of "transition". What a "transion" is will be explained in Act 9.**

**-Kal**


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: No, I'm not dead yet, unfortunately.

First of all: I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry.

I'm sorrier than the time I put an entire bag of marshmallows into the microwave just for the heck of it.

I'm sorrier than the time I put my climbing harness on too tight and tried to ride a zip line.

I'm sorrier than the time I accidentally hit myself in the crotch while serving a tennis match. (This really happened.)

I think you're getting the idea by now.

As you know, a little thing called 'life' has been getting in the way of my writing time. There's also other little things called 'piano', 'SAT', and 'homicidal insane stalker parents', but we won't go there now.

You will notice that when I posted the last chapter of Revolt (about a month and some ago, but it feels like a year) I didn't have time to write an author's note. If I had, it is very likely that you would not be foaming at the mouths ready to eat me right now. Rather, I suppose you would be foaming at the mouths ready to eat me, but with a heavy conscience.

_(Warning: The following anecdote is pretty long. If you're not in the mood to read it, press Page Down and come back to it when you're ready to do so.)_

One of the reasons I cited earlier about not writing was failing classes. Some of you may think I was lying or at least exaggerating, at least for comic effect. I wasn't.

When your teacher doesn't explain a damn thing in class and tests you on material only mentioned in the textbook as a footnote, it's pretty obvious what happens next- you fail. I was getting Ds (60's) constantly on tests, and it's sort of self-explanatory that D's aren't very good for your GPA.

I decided to drop the class, and told my mother about it. With what you all know about Asian stereotypes, it's a miracle I wasn't buried under 60 feet of earth, but my mother didn't say anything. Truthfully, I wished she had screamed instead- the silence was unbearably painful. I think she understood my situation a little, because she herself had failed a dissertation on the history of the Japanese language in college, but that didn't lessen the pain any- I had failed her, and we both knew it. She signed the course change sheet heavy-handed and waved me away.

My father later found out about the whole fiasco when my mother told him, something I hadn't planned on. Now, my father is the sort of guy who you'd call an "iron-fisted ruler", and whenever I got a B in elementary school, he used to do things that would attract the attention of the FBI, CIA, and Al-Qaeda if I described them here. I felt my heart implode when he called me down after dinner to talk about it. Shockingly enough, he didn't scream, brandish his fists, or take off his belt and heat it on the stove. He just sat down and held the pink sheet in his hand, asking me why I wanted to drop the class. I told him I hated the class, my teacher, the subject matter, and it would be best for everyone concerned if I dropped the class. He listened calmly (something I've never seen him do before this moment, frankly) and simultaneously kicked my butt and opened a window in my mind with his next words, something along the lines of "What happened to you? You used to be so good at this, blah blah blah." It's too tedious to translate here, so I won't, but we had a talk for the remainder of the hour. He kept telling me how smart I was, how gifted, and that I shouldn't waste this opportunity by dropping the advanced chem course. I told him I couldn't, that I simply couldn't understand it all. He finally said something that truly touched me: "Do whatever you think is best for yourself, and regardless of what happens, I'll still be proud of you."

Later, in the privacy of my own room, I tore apart the course change form.

A few days later, I took the last Honors Chemistry test of the marking period, and scored a 95. I passed the course with an average of 82 points, and completed the first marking period of sophomore year with a GPA of 4.48.

So, that's reason one why I haven't been writing.

The second reason is slightly less happy, but fortunate nevertheless. A while back, I was Googling "Kal Ancalas" just for fun and came upon a thread in the HiddenStreet forum titled "Playing MS makes you dumber." (You can still access the thread if you wish.) To my utter surprise and confusion, I found some guy calling me a prodigy because I played piano at teh Carnegie Hall.

Well…score one for inspiration.

Recently, though, I've been involved in something that makes the episode at New York look utterly insignificant. Two months ago, I (somehow) managed to convince a panel of judges that I was skilled enough to travel to Vienna, Austria to perform for the greatest European pianists of the age. Yes, you read right- I'm going to _Vienna _in July(That's in Europe, by the way.) I suspect it had less to do with my playing ability than the fact that the kid in front of me sneezed during his rendition of Fur Elise, but whatever.

The problem is, of course, that I have to memorize Edward McDowell's Hexentanz (Witches' Dance), a 9-page, 3-minute symphony of pain (no, not a typo- that's 20 seconds per page, or about 3/4ths of a second per measure), in six months. Not helping is the fact that I despise Edward McDowell (anyone learning any of his songs will sympathize here), and I usually spend my assigned practice hours playing Houki Boshi (the ending theme from Bleach, which I love) rather than Hexentanz (which I hate).

Bottom line: Studying for chemistry + piano competition in Vienna not much writing time.

On to the actual story. From what I've seen, opinions about this piece fall into one of two categories. Either people consider this more "deep" and "filling" than Revolt, or they simply can't understand it and therefore hate it.

Somehow, over the past weeks, I managed to write the miasma that lies below this note. Unfortunately, I did not finish all the acts, as if I had done so, you would be reading this a month later. I had to cut out the last four acts, which coincidentally were the most important ones. D'oh. Nevertheless, a lot of important stuff is contained here, which is why I suggest you read carefully.

Mythology buffs will note that practically everything I cite in this chapter is wrong, totally wrong. Here are just a few examples below:

- Izanagi and Izanami created a lot of demonic bastard spawn before they finally got Susano'o (actually, he was a bastard too), Amaterasu, and Tsukuyomi. For the sake of the story, I left that part out.  
- Tsukuyomi is a guy, not a girl, but in my defense, the "two goddesses" deal helps the story more.

- Ame-no-nuhoko did not break into three pieces after the formation of the world. Kusanagi, Yata, and Yasakani are elements of Japanese mythology, but their origins are totally different from those stated in this story.

- The Norse gods were not descended from the Japanese gods, no matter how much I want to believe otherwise.

- For those of you wondering, Yggdrasill is a gigantic tree at the center of the world that was featured in Tales of Symphonia, and Ratatosk is a squirrel that spends his time running up and down Yggdrasill pissing off the gods. He lends his name to the upcoming ToS sequel, Knight of Ratatosk.

I did get some stuff right, but for your sake, please don't use this story as a source in any of your Japanese/Norse mythology reports. This is fan_fiction, _and rightfully so.

With this painfully long author's note fresh in your mind, sit back, relax, and enjoy the third part of Way One Moves Time.

_P.S: Revolt is not dead, I just haven't had the time to write it. Please don't die of boredom before I get around to writing the next chapter._

_P.P.S: I will review The Lone Crusader, Chief, I swear. Just give me a little time to pick through the details._

_P.P.P.S: Try putting on some music while reading. I don't care if it's Linkin Park or the Barney theme song- I've noticed that you pick up more on important stuff while listening to music of any sort._

_-Kal Ancalas, 12.8.07_

_**act VIII: whispers of the stones (50)**_

The sword sweeps through the air with a mundane finality, rock shattering at steel's whim. The remnants of the stone golem tumble lifelessly to the ground as I let the curved blade hang in the air, its edge still glimmering with the threat of death.

Two years ago, I would have been scared lifeless of stone golems, and here I am now, slaughtering them with relative ease.

Life likes its little ironies.

That is the last thought that bites my mind as I stare briefly across the landscape, friends and companions in tow. Charles and Susanne are dueling valiantly with the gigantic hulking beasts, metal flashing through the air as they make rubble of the monsters. I see Susanne's elegant, flowing strikes and Charles' nimble, rapid stabs, and I am reminded of the time we fought our first group of mushrooms near Amherst. So long ago, and yet still so familiar.

Charles finally got his Shinkita, though fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), no arms or legs were involved in the transaction. He gave Elisabeth an Arc Staff in exchange for one, which he found while us two were training at the Dangerous Valley. I would have given him a Sai, but he doesn't think much of strength daggers.

Elisabeth sits quietly in the middle of the temple, her eyes closed as she thoughtfully crosses her legs on the soft grass, totally oblivious to the fact that the gigantic beasts of stone around her could crush her with a single step. A soft emerald-colored glow emanates from her Arc Staff every so often, bathing us in its light; she's finally achieved her dream of becoming a cleric. True to her nature, she sits without the faintest trace of worry; her mind is blissfully, innocently carefree, never harsh or afraid.

It's one of the things I've always liked about her.

Charles whispers an incantation as a gust of wind seems to sweep underneath my feet, and I recognize the bandit's arte of Haste. I leap through the air with newfound agility as the Lion's Fang shines in my grip, and the head of another stone behemoth hits the grass with a dull thump. Barely a few yards away, Charles leaps towards the front of a large golem and vaults himself off it, his Shinkita raised. He slashes it relentlessly with Savage Blow until its body crumbles, landing neatly on his feet as dust settles into his black hair.

Hard to believe he was scared of mushrooms a couple years ago.

Time does not go back, I think, as Susanne charges, Charles stabs, and Elisabeth heals, sparks and stones flying through the air. We are no longer the people we once were, stripped of our childhood innocence and merely a part of the world that surrounds us.

Perched on the ledge above us, Drake calmly snipes away at the heads of any golems that have managed to survive my, Charles, and Susanne's combined onslaught. His eyes are as cold as ever, his mouth drawn in a thin, unsmiling crescent as he wields the string of his Olympus. The hem of an ice-blue coverlet peeks from under his robe and drapes the ground to match his eyes, his oaken hair barely moving in the light breeze.

"Watch your head." he says, simply, as an arrow seemingly breaks the air and embeds itself in the chest of a golem a few paces behind me.

His voice keeps reminding me that I can't trust him. He has helped us from the beginning. For one thing, the only reason we were able to afford our equipment in the first place is that his presence intimidated all but the shrewdest of shopkeepers. For another, it definitely kept the Tsukuyomi grunts at bay- well, most of them, anyway. I hadn't seen Constantine since our last encounter, and frankly, I had no desire to do so again.

There is something Tsukuyomi knows about him that we don't, something that makes them afraid of him, and though I never want to find out what, something tells me I will find out eventually, whether I want to or not.

"Anything good yet?" Charles calls, his voice breaking the relative calm that has settled over us in the hazy afternoon of Golem's Temple.

"Not really, unless you count enough rocks to build a house." Susanne replies, calm and cool as ever. I notice she's changed over the years- her ponytail is long, grazing her waist, and yes, I realize her body is more developed as well- in certain places more so than others, hormones be damned. There's almost no trace of the child she once was in her face, but I can still see her, from those days a few years ago.

"We have some black crystal ores." Elisabeth puts in, her face adorned with a small smile as her eyes open.

They are a lovely sky-blue.

"Black crystals aren't worth bull these days." Drake mutters coldly from above, shooting a lumbering golem between the eyes with a neat flick of his wrist. "Inflation and hackers abound."

"Well, we're bound to get something _eventually._" I say, more to break the ice than anything else. "How unlucky can you be?"

"You'd be surprised." Drake says, leaning against the wall of the temple's upper ledges. "They say Tsukuyomi's got a transion to control what monsters drop. I've heard one guy used it in Dangerous Valley and got a full set of Steelies and a few scrolls in one day."

"What _is _a transion?" Charles asks, his eyes mildly curious.

Drake's face seems to pale for the slightest fraction of a second- or whether it was my imagination, I will never know. "It's nothing."

"You said-"

"It's _not important." _Drake says flatly, and that ends the discussion unceremoniously. Charles shrinks back, a trace of his timid past showing behind his glasses for a moment.

I don't blame him, though.

"Look who's here." a cold voice says, and time seems to freeze for a moment. Elisabeth, Charles, and even Susanne look worried, while Drake's eyes are narrowed. I try to keep my own expression as bleak as possible, though it really isn't working.

It isn't Constantine, but bad enough. A magician is here, his garish white hair streaked with spikes of dark purple. A hood is draped over his head, though, so very little of his hair is visible as it hangs past his shoulders. I can see the slim handle of a Thorns staff pulsing in his right fist, crystalline earpieces decorating his ears. Behind him, more people are following. A dark-haired swordsman, his hair drawn in a braid with a pair of swords clutched in his hands. A crossbow woman stands off to the side, her short hair a dark violet color as a bolt lays loaded in her rifle. To round off the whole ensemble, an assassin stands behind them, Steelies clutched between his thin fingers. Though he isn't Constantine- not by a long shot- his smile is just as cold and domineering.

Though we outnumber them five to four, something tells me that isn't going to make much of a difference.

"What in the Goddess' name are you people doing here?" the magician laughs coldly, twirling his staff in a vain gesture. "Don't you know this is- _our _area?" There's a cold, pregnant pause as the last two words leave his mouth.

Drake meets his gaze with his usual cold stare. "It's a small world."

The magician's eyes flicker briefly to Drake, and his mouth seems to open a fraction of a centimeter before he says, slowly, "Montag."

"Yes, that's me." Drake acknowledges, though not warmly. Though his bow hangs at his side, I can sense his desire to use it.

"You haven't learned anything from the last time we met, have you?!" the magician snarls, rage suddenly beginning to cloud his face as his features twist into a truly ugly expression. "You're just the same!"

"And so are you." Drake says, calmly. "Watch it, you're scaring the golems."

"You can't hide forever, Montag." the magician growls, his staff raised. "You will pay for your crimes…someday!"

Drake's eyes seem to recede a bit before he says, very coldly, "I look forward to that day, Skorpios."

"That's it!" The mage's eyes narrow dangerously, his pupils lightning-lavender. "Get them!"

Lightning suddenly seems to break apart the sky as bolts suddenly rip through the air, the atmosphere charging with static electricity. Faster than I can blink, the four Tsukuyomi members are suddenly nowhere and everywhere at the same time, cold steel and magic blasting the golems. Almost as soon as the stones are brought to life, they are struck down once more.

Senseless suffering, pain, and slaughter…it all comes back to me now, the memories of time long since gone…

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Drake roars at us as he looses arrows from his bow at a speed which can only be described as inhuman. Though he manages to steal some kills underneath the dark clan's noses, he is the only one doing so. Charles, Susanne, Elisabeth, and I are making no progress.

"Worthless!" the magician shouts, his nostrils flared. "Get out of here before I make you regret it!"

Then there is a sudden burst of pain as something strikes me in the back, something sharp and massive. Its edge cuts into me, blood streaming down my body, and I gaze upwards into the braided warrior's face, his mouth twisted in a snarl as he raises his sword-

"_No!" _I can suddenly hear the wizard roar, and the swordsman pauses. "Ignore the others- for Goddess' sake, _get Montag! He is the one!"_

The swordsman blinks briefly, before stepping back. Nevertheless, he keeps his blade trained on me, daring me to move and see what happens. Behind him, I can see Charles, Susanne and Elisabeth, backs to the wall as the crossbow woman and the assassin keep their gazes trained on them.

It is then that I realize we are helpless, like prisoners on execution row.

I see Drake, his ice-blue robe flying through the air as he dodges the constant bursts of lightning an ice that are hurled at him by the mage. Yet, something is wrong. His speed is abnormal- as they duel, I can barely see him, until he seems no longer there, his body moving through the air for flashes at a time. I know that Charles' spell must have worn off by now- so what is happening?

Snarling, I can see perspiration dot the magician's forehead as he aims lightning blasts at Drake, charring the ground where the hunter would have been moments ago, and yet death seems to miss him always.

Then all of a sudden, I see the mage's face break into a thin smile as he raises his staff and chants something, and suddenly Drake's speed is reduced to nothing as he is frozen to the ground, struggling to break free, and the magician is raising his staff and I want to scream and then-

A sudden blast of fire rips the air and sends sparks into the sky as the torrent of red-orange flame washes over us, covering us like a wave. I can feel the flames searing past me, and yet they do not burn. They are pleasantly warm, as though I can feel the touch of a loved one about me. The Tsukuyomi grunts are not so lucky as burns appear over their bodies, the enchanted flame piercing their armor and ripping through them unmercifully.

Badly burnt, the Tsukuyomi grunts stagger to their knees and glare at Drake, their weapons raised, but Drake calmly stares them down, his own bow leveled at them. There is sweat across his brow, as an air of danger hangs about him.

"Don't even _think _about it." Drake snarls, his eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits in the afternoon sun. "Unless you want to find out what happened to Cassian and the others…get the hell out of here. _Now."_

"You were lucky, Montag." the magician growls, his staff at his knees. "Your transions are nothing compared to what the rest of Tsukuyomi can do. Be thankful that you can live another day, and say your prayers."

Drake's eyes narrow, and he draws the bowstring back another half-inch threateningly. The magician gets the point and mutters something to his colleagues, vanishing, as do the rest.

It's some time before I can speak. Susanne, Charles, and Elisabeth are staring at Drake in awe. "How did you do that?!"

An unreadable expression crosses Drake's features for a moment- be it regret, sorrow, or simply madness, I shall never know.

"It's not my place to tell you." he says, in a quiet tone that is unlike his usual cold voice. "Perhaps, someday, you will understand…that sometimes the greatest sacrifices are needed…to-"

But his voice cuts off abruptly, and it is as if a veil has been lifted. He blinks, once, the sunlight streaming into his eyes, before he shakes his head and sheathes his bow into his quiver.

"Let's go back." he says simply, crossing past us, his footsteps crushing the charred grass. The rest of us exchange glances briefly before following, and I know exactly what we are all thinking:

We're nothing compared to him.

I start to follow after the rest of them, but a chance movement catches my eye, and I turn around to see a man standing there, his dark hair flowing well past his shoulders. He is obviously much older than I am, perhaps twice my age. His eyes are a razor-sharp shade of white, and it shocks me more than anything. A heavy blade hangs at his waist, hidden in a jeweled sheath of gold and obsidian. His back is completely covered by a cape of silver-trimmed black, emblazoned with a large crescent moon.

One thing is for sure- he isn't any ordinary traveler.

Not sure what to do, I simply stand there, staring at his feet. His gaze is piercing, almost like a soul raised from the dead, and I can feel his eyes scrutinizing me all over. I have no way of knowing what he wants, and all I can do is wait.

"I saw what happened." he says quietly, his voice laced with a tone of sensitivity.

"Yeah." I am lost for words in the face of his stare.

"Nothing escapes Tsukuyomi, does it?" he asks, in the same tone. I muster the courage to look up, and find his eyes have suddenly become less piercing, almost knowing.

"They're _horrible." _I whisper. "How can they do that- slaughter countless innocents and torture countless more, all for their own selfish purposes? How could anyone allow all this to happen?"

He nods his head solemnly and fingers the hilt of his blade in its sheath. "That is something I have long wondered myself."

It is some time before he speaks once more. "Perhaps…it is not their choice to do so, but rather that they are driven by desperation, greed, and insanity. They join Tsukuyomi knowing their desires for power, recognition and glory will be satisfied. Unfortunately, once the deluded promises of power take them in their dreaded clutches, they do not let go, and thus begins their journey into the abyss of darkness and despair."

There is a tangible silence before he asks, "What is your name?" The question is put simply, and yet it carries something more underneath- that much I can feel.

"My name is Kal Ancalas."

"Know this, then- I am Noel Thaler, and I foresee we may meet some time in the future."

That is all he says before he walks past me along the dusty path leading towards Henesys. I can see the hilt of his sword as he leaves, barely covered by the crescent-emblazoned cape.

It has been forged in the likeness of a gray-colored wolf's head; its fangs are bared, its blood-crimson eyes glistening in the sunlight.

_**act IX: the secret of amaterasu (60)**_

"You said you wouldn't, and now look at what happened."

As the cold wind and Charles' voice leave icy marks on my cheeks, I can only grumble and walk further along the edges of the icy crevasses that time has wrought into the mountains of El Nath.

"Really smart, walking all the way from Nath to the Forest of Dead Trees, Kal." Charles' glasses reflect the silver glare of the snow.

My cheeks flare a dim red before the color subsides in the subzero temperature. "Dead Mine scrolls are way too expensive, Charles. You know that."

"Because 200,000 mesos isn't worth freezing your things off in the snow, huh?" Charles wipes the back of his hand against his forehead, barely covered by a hooded headband. Dark hair peeks from under his headpiece.

"Shut up! We barely had enough money as it was paying for your stupid dagger!" True enough, Charles' Deadly Fin glimmers in the snow, clenched between his pallid fingers.

"It's not _stupid, _Kal." Charles' voice has acquired a somewhat poisonous edge. "It was the best deal Drake could find on the market-"

"Yeah, yeah, and the hackers are everywhere, blah blah blah. Spare me already." Briefly, I can see Charles wince, and I wonder if I should apologize, but the cold dims any thoughts of reparation as we trudge along in the dim sunset.

By the time we finally _do _reach the godforsaken group of trees in the valley, I realize that it's no more pleasant than the journey we just put ourselves through. Snow whirls through the branches of the petrified trees, a dark cloudbank obscuring the sky. The moon is visible, though, gleaming at us through a pocket in the clouds as it bathes us in its celestial gleam.

"What took you so long?"

Elisabeth is running towards us, her slippered shoes sliding a bit on the icy ground. A white-colored robe adorns her shoulders and body, a warm white hood covering her head. The handle of a wand is clutched in her hand as she brushes errant dark hair from her eyes.

"_Someone _wanted to save a bit of money on transportation." Charles replies impassively, his arms folded.

"At least you're in one piece." Susanne remarks, her thin silver blade cutting deadly swaths through the air as she duels fiercely with the undead swarming her- how she does it even wearing untold pounds of plate armor is beyond me.

My eyes sweep briefly across the landscape, and I am greeted with nothing except the aura of death and despair.

"Where's Drake?" I am surprised by the volume of my own voice.

Susanne looks up briefly from vivisecting a zombie. "He couldn't come. Said he had to do something in town."

We briefly exchange looks as a feeling of apprehension hangs over us- since his display of fire in Golem's Temple, we've learned not to ask questions where Drake Montag is concerned.

"Let's hope no one from Tsukuyomi comes, anyway." Charles notes wryly, his double-edged blade already busy as it dances in a swift motion through the air, inflicting a series of consecutive gashes in the rotting figure of an incoming ghoul.

"Wishful thinking." A sour look adorns Susanne's mouth for a moment. "If anything, this is practically their breeding ground, especially at a time like this…"

I start to laugh before I realize she isn't joking, and any mirth dies in the back of my throat. Finding nothing else to do, I can only unsheathe my two-handed blade and join my companions in taking advantage of the brief respite that fate has granted us.

Each time I raise the blade and drive it forward with a burst of crimson energy, I close my eyes and imagine that each rotting, stinking zombie has Constantine's face upon its head.

"Is something wrong, Kal?" Charles' voice silently slides through the icy night and rests in my ears.

His voice surprises me- I've never really expected him to take an interest in my troubles, but then again, he's been doing that for the past few years.

"Not really." I step forward and thrust, the mangled remains of another zombie hitting the icy floor. "What do you care, anyway?"

"Hm." Charles' gaze flickers towards Susanne for a moment before he folds his hands together, and the familiar sensation of Haste entwines itself around my feet. "A meso for your thoughts, Kal."

"Fine." There is a crunching noise as the tip of my sword breaks the icy ground. "If you really must know, I've been just peachy since we nearly got ourselves killed by Tsukuyomi. Twice."

Charles is silent for a while as he contemplates, his glasses trailing towards the tip of his nose.

"What can we do about it?" he finally concurs, his eyes boring into me. "They're a worldwide terrorist group, and we- we're just a bunch of kids trying to make a name for ourselves in this godforsaken world of Bera."

"It just-" Pain briefly hits me as my lips, numb from the cold, crack. Blood seeps down my chin. "It just feels so useless, so empty. I always think there's something- _anything _I can do, but there isn't."

"Hm." Charles touches the tip of his blade to his chin and seems to stare off into the distance. "They can make monsters _fly, _Kal, and for the record, I don't see how you can compare with that."

"There has to be _something!" _I snap furiously, unconsciously biting my lip as more blood trickles out. "I mean, if Drake could do it- what's to prevent the rest of us from launching all-out war against them?"

"Ask everyone that question, Kal, and you won't get an answer." Charles says, rubbing a finger along the sharp edge of his double blade. "They're much too widespread to stop. They rule by fear and intimidation. You can never see them, and yet they exist everywhere."

"When the hell did you start turning into Voltaire?" I mutter grumpily, terminating the conversation. Charles turns away wordlessly, instead settling for dismembering murderous foes with swipes of his dagger.

The scent of death is heavy in the air.

"Someone's coming." Susanne announces emotionlessly, briefly lowering her sword.

Elisabeth opens her eyes for a brief moment. "How can you tell?"

Mutely, she points the silvered blade towards the east, where a contingent of people are approaching. On closer inspection, the group consists of a hermit, a chief bandit, two mages, and two crusaders- not a pleasant thought.

We're outnumbered two to three, and Drake isn't with us.

"Oh, for-" Charles lets out an oath that is lost in the frigid wind.

"Should we leave?" Elisabeth asks, clenching her wand tightly. I can see a bead of sweat drip down her neck and freeze halfway down.

"Is it like we really have a choice?" Susanne replies bluntly, as flat and frank as ever. "If one group's here, then we might as well be shooting craps for all the luck the other sections of forest are going to give us."

"So basically, you're saying that we should stay here and get mauled." Charles says, half dryly.

"Precisely." Susanne replies, without the faintest semblance of a smile.

Shards of steel suddenly hit the ground at our feet, and we barely have to look up to see the objects of our derision.

"Well, look who's here."

I am half-expecting to see Constantine, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) he isn't there. Nevertheless, the Tsukuyomi units that have gathered here aren't any less hostile.

"What do you want?" Charles finally snaps, breaking the deathly silence.

They do not answer at once, but rather turn towards each other and exchange brief words before the apparent leader, a stone-faced hermit, replies. "We were tipped off that someone from Amaterasu would arrive, but if this is all they sent, I think we might as well storm the whole place right now."

They all laugh, a sound that sends chills up my spine more so than the cold. I have no idea who or what Amaterasu is, but I cannot care less at the moment- we are all in very deep trouble, considering the fact they are all of the third job advancement, and consequently at a much higher level that us. It'll be a miracle if we can survive.

The hermit regards us coldly, condescendingly, for another second before he snaps his fingers. "Assume hawkshead attack formation, Alpha…_now!" _

Faster than I can blink, the Tsukuyomi units have surrounded us, murder on their faces and magic at their fingertips. Reminded of the episode with Constantine some time ago, I have no desire to repeat that experience- and shudder as I realize that it may happen to all of us. 

"Listen, you-" The hermit spits along the icy ground before turning back to face us. "You can all go to hell, and tell that moth-eaten asshole Faber that he's going down too."

"But-" Plaintively, Elisabeth musters the courage to speak. "We don't even know who or what Amaterasu or Faber are-"

"Likely story, whelp!" he snaps, spittle flying into her face. Indignation bursts in my veins as I grip my sword, and yet I realize it won't do a bit of good as I glance at the crusaders' weathered blades.

As the other five surround us, the hermit slowly walks around us like a dog inspecting his trapped prey. As he walks past, I can smell his foul breath, hanging like poison in the air.

He stops, and touches a finger to my cheek.

"This is what you get…" he hisses, "for screwing around with us."

Then there is a flash of metal as pain sears my body, and I am forced to my knees on the cold ground. The snow is streaked with blood, and pain explodes through my chest with every breath.

He stands up and coldly regards the others, drawing a single finger across his throat and mouthing the words "Kill them."

"_No!" _I scream, the icy wind slashing my throat, but in the next instant, the crusaders and bandit have impaled Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth upon half a foot of steel. Quietly, their eyes slide in and out of focus, blood streaking their mouths, before they drop silently to the ground. Blood gathers upon the ground, staining the snow a dark crimson.

"You…you…" Rage and pain clouds my voice, but my sword is still a foot away from my fingers. "How _dare _you…how could you…"

The hermit eyes me once more, his eyes showing a treacherous tenderness as his voice is laced with poisonous honey. "Feels terrible, doesn't it?"

"I'll…I'll _kill you!" _I scream, the pain vanishing in one motion as I stand up and unsheathe my sword. I can see the smile on his face, the carefree expression, and I realize it is I who will die, and not he.

Yet, there is nothing I can do except lunge at those who have destroyed my life.

There is a sudden explosion of lightning as my sword pierces through his body, and he lets out a horrible, ear-jarring scream as blood suddenly spatters the ground in jagged streams. Breathing hard, I can only stare at his falling corpse, the scent of scorched blood in the air, as electricity sparks briefly into the air.

Behind him, a man is standing, his sword outstretched and crossed with mine. At first, I think he is a white knight, but I soon realize that is impossible, as he is wearing a blue magician's robe, its hem sweeping the ground. Yet that makes no sense- if he is a magician, how can he possibly be wielding a sword?

As the lightning illuminates his face, I see that he has long hair that barely trails past his shoulders, a sharp amber color. His eyes are green, a shade of emerald that I have never seen before.

"It's you!" one of the priests screams, his staff outstretched. "F-Faber…!"

"Yes, that is me." the man says, his voice cold and calm.

Then he charges forward, the edge of his sword glowing with lightning, and in that instant, he raises his sword to the sky and bellows something that I cannot understand. At his call, five bolts of sapphire lightning rip the sky and strike down the Tsukuyomi grunts where they stand, leaving nothing but mangled corpses behind.

I stare in awe at the man named Faber; he takes little notice of me in return. He kneels over Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth in turn and clucks his tongue empathetically.

"Heal thy mortal wounds with her sacred blessing." he whispers, and there is a soft flash of light as his hand glows with white energy, enveloping us all in its wake. I can feel the slash on my chest closing itself up as Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth regain consciousness.

"Who are you?" I whisper, stretching out my hand almost as if to touch him.

He stands up and sheathes his rapier in a quick motion. "As you have heard, my name is Faber- Clarias Faber, to be exact. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much more pressing matters to attend to-"

"Wait!" I call, my heart pounding, and he turns around briefly, a laissez-faire expression streaking his face.

"Yes?"

"I…" I can barely speak, so great is my excitement. "How did you do that?"

Clarias stands motionless for a second before he turns away once more. "That is not for you to know." In that frame of time, I can almost see something resembling remorse in his eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to leave, Mr…"

"Ancalas." I say, breathlessly. "Kal Ancalas."

Clarias pauses, his mouth open in a slight "o" before he closes it. "I see." he says, running a hand across his forehead thoughtfully. "So Montag…yes."

"You know Montag- I mean, Drake?" I manage to sputter, confusion and surprise clouding my brain.

"Yes, I do." His gaze briefly floats towards the sky before it comes back to rest on me. "I must admit that this changes the circumstances considerably…" He reflects some more before fixing his gaze collectively on us. "It seems that you are in luck."

"How so?" I ask tentatively.

"You wanted to know how I cast that miraculously difficult arte some moments ago, yes?" Clarias replies calmly, his hair fluttering in the icy breeze.

"Yes…" I say slowly. Behind me, Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth have gotten up, looks of utter confusion plastered across their faces.

"That…" he replies, equally slowly, "…is one of the greatest secrets that this world has ever kept." His gaze sharpens, narrows, as he looks at us. "If you come with me, I can grant you that secret, as well as many more. I can show you how to transcend the boundaries of mortals and unlock the secrets of this world, so that you never need fall to Tsukuyomi's abuses ever again."

His last sentence is what awakens me, and I see his eyes fall pensively on us, as though he knows something we don't.

"All I ask from you…" he says, his calm voice piercing through the whistling wind, "is a vow of secrecy. You must never reveal our secrets to anyone outside our group, no matter the circumstances."

"Group?" I stammer, my voice crippled by the cold. "You mean there's a group?"

Clarias closes his eyes. "Yes." he says, after a long silence. "I think it only fair to inform you that I am Clarias Resalia Faber, leader of the House of Vanir under the Goddess Amaterasu."

_**act X: lightning blade (60)**_

Shock is the prevailing sensation that rules my body, numbness spreading from my brain to the tips of my toes. It feels as if the blood in my body has been replaced by ice, a cold, liquid ice that remains even after we have left El Nath.

Clarias sends us back to the city with four scrolls, with explicit instructions to follow afterwards.

"I may have disposed of them, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be off our guard." he says, with the air of a man who has everything planned out and double-checked in his mind already. "They've probably got other agents in the forest, and that's the last damn thing we need."

"Then what do we do?"

Clarias closes his eyes briefly. "You four stay at the potion shop. Don't separate under any circumstances, even if you have to go to the bathroom. I'll contact the rest of the Vanir in El Nath to keep watch over the shop, so if anyone tries to attack, they'll have another think coming. I would have escorted you to Orbis myself, but I've got things to do, as you very well know." His eyes sharpen once more, his pupils narrowing.

"We can take care of ourselves." Susanne retorts indignantly, as though hiding like sissies isn't at the top of her list of things to do.

Clarias' emerald eyes flicker over her. "Right." he says, flatly. "Just like you took care of yourselves back in the forest."

Susanne blinks, at a rare loss for words, as Clarias turns away. "I won't sugarcoat this for you, dear- Tsukuyomi is ruthless. You four should know that by now. If they decide to use a combustion transion under your feet at this moment, what's stopping them?" His hand slides to the hilt of his rapier almost unconsciously, as if recalling a bad memory.

"What _is _a transion, anyway?" Charles pipes up, his voice as inquisitive as always. "Drake mentioned it before when Tsukuyomi attacked us at Golem's Temple-"

A momentary look of surprise graces Clarias' face. "They-" His face subsides into an uneasy frown as he rubs his chin and exhales deeply. "By Amaterasu's fan, this is worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?" I ask, before I can stop myself.

Clarias doesn't reply for some time. It is a drawn minute before he says, "Believe me when I say you're better off not knowing." He turns away so that his expression is shadowed and mutters something briefly, his palms clenched together.

"I've sent the transmission." he says quietly, not facing us. "Remember what I've said. I can't risk any more blood on my hands- not at this stage, anyway."

"But-" I start to say, but in the next moment, he is gone, leaving nothing but the wind in his wake.

"Beautiful." Charles mutters, throwing his hands up into the air. "Here we are, stuck in El Nath, and we've got a group of terrorists out for our blood." He exhales softly. "Great, isn't it?"

"As much as you're helping the mood, Charles, we don't have a choice." I say, turning towards the potion store. "The least we can do is listen to him- at the very least, we'll be safe."

"How does he know Drake, anyway?" Elisabeth asks, her clear voice breaking the silence as we trudge towards the wooden building.

"Isn't it obvious?" Susanne says, swiping her blade through the air. "He's a member of Amaterasu. It was under our noses the whole time. How else do you explain his tracking down so many Tsukuyomi members?"

"Thank you for that wonderful bit of insight, Susanne." Charles says, a faint, dry smile gracing his cracked lips, though I can sense a bit of genuine affection mixed in his sarcasm.

Unfortunately for him, Susanne doesn't notice, and her eyes seem to flash before she shuts the door behind us with a loud thump.

"Do you need anything?" the kindly girl asks behind the counter as we enter, a large scarf wrapped around her body, making her look like a giant dumpling.

"A reality pill would be nice." I mutter under my breath, but out loud I say, "Four red bean soups, please." As the others watch, I empty some coins onto the counter and watch as she ladles a thick, dark, melange stew into a series of bowls.

The door suddenly opens, and I brace myself for the worst.

"Montag!" the girl suddenly squeals excitedly, accidentally sending hot flecks of soup flying into my face. "You're here!"

"Good afternoon, Hana." Drake says, in his usual flat, cold tone. The girl doesn't seem to notice his blunt demeanor, though, and excitedly plunks another bowl onto the counter. "Here- let me-" In her haste, she splashes more soup onto my cuirass.

"Again, Hana?" A very, very faint smile touches the hunter's lips. "I must owe you a million mesos by now…"

"Oh- don't worry about it, Drake-san." she giggles, her face cherry-red. "It's my pleasure."

"Hm." Drake calmly stalks to the counter and neatly stacks three bowls on top of each other, carrying the whole thing with unerring precision. "Good to see you, Ancalas."

"You too, Drake." I mutter, taking the other two bowls to the table. "I thought you were busy-"

"I was, until Clarias sent me here to guard your asses." Drake says calmly, taking a sip from his soup. "I assume you _have_ met Clarias by now."

Silence hangs over our heads for a few moments.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I finally ask.

"Tell you what?" Drake replies, his blizzard-blue eyes gazing over the rim of the bowl.

"That you were…part of Amaterasu." My eyes stare down at the soup in my hands; I don't want to meet his gaze. "You could have told us a long time ago-"

Drake laughs, his voice as cold as the snow as steam rises over his face. "Would that have changed anything?"

"It wouldn't have hurt." Charles mumbles, his face bowed over his bowl as well.

"You are so naïve." Drake says, waving a hand petulantly in our general direction. "Being a part of Amaterasu is no picnic, I can assure you. How would you like to be chased down by a worldwide group of terrorists every day, knowing you're all that stands between them and total anarchy?"

"Sounds fun." Charles says, dryly. "We've already had our share of trouble with Tsukuyomi- why not just make it a career?"

"Because you don't know what they're capable of." Drake mutters, a dismal look passing over his face. "Everything you've seen so far- Constantine, the guys at Golem's Temple, the people at zombies- that's nothing. _Nothing." _His eyes, as cold as they may be, carry a faint shadow of regret. "You may think you know them, just petty criminals making monsters fly and stealing items- that's what everyone thinks. But when you're part of Amaterasu, the illusion, my friends…is gone."

"Really?" Elisabeth whispers. It's quiet, save for the sound of snow beating on the walls outside.

Drake shakes his head as a single oaken hair flutters to the table. "I've seen them _slaughter _people like pigs. One by one, until there's nothing left. You're making a big sacrifice by joining Amaterasu- I can tell you that much." He glowers back down into his soup as though there's an enemy inside, shooting daggers at it with his eyes.

"Less of a sacrifice than letting the other side win." Susanne replies matter-of-factly, tracing a line across the rim of her bowl.

Drake's gaze becomes glassy. "I suppose." he murmurs quietly, running his callused fingers along the grain of the wooden table.

The door opens a second time, and Clarias is standing there, his rapier outstretched.

"Ah, you're all here." he says, neatly sheathing it. "I was worried that-"

"Don't be. Area's clear." Drake cuts him off, waving a hand. "Asteria and I've already secured the ground area, and Reynard's on the cliff above us. Any unauthorized person who crosses within fifty yards of this door will get a nice faceful of lightning transion."

Clarias still looks apprehensive, but he sheathes his blade as his eyes dart around the walls. "Very well. Now, the question of how to transport you all to Orbis still begs to be answered-"

"You can use the tethers." Drake cuts in, draining the last of his bowl. "The power reserves for them should be charged up already."

"Always practical, Montag." Clarias murmurs dryly, casting an amused glance around the room. "Very well, I suppose it's either that or an exhilarating romp up the annals of Orbis Tower…"

He then fixes his emerald stare upon us. "I am sorry." he says, as he rakes a hand across his hair. "I realize how confusing all this must seem to you…but I assure you it will all make sense sooner or later, and hopefully sooner."

He then seizes ahold of my hand and Charles's, and motions for Drake to take Susanne and Elisabeth. "I warn you, this may feel somewhat peculiar at first."

He firmly clenches my hand, and all of a sudden a mystical sensation washes over me. All the strength leaves my body, and it is almost as if I am melting into the ground below. I try to remain conscious, but my vision fades briefly before it subsides into nothing.

When I awake, I can feel the hard, cold surface of marble tile underneath my head, as though I've awoken from a deep sleep. Every joint in my body feels sore, like I've just been stretched into spaghetti, and it is some time before my vision stops spinning.

"Good, you're alive." A hand reaches out and touches mine, and I seize it without thinking. I am pulled roughly to my feet, and I see the familiar face of Charles Verana staring at me.

"Charles…" My voice feels rough, my throat sore. "What…just happened?"

"Long story, short explanation." Charles brushes matted hair from my face with a gentle motion of his hand. "Clarias and the others are waiting for us."

Without really paying attention to where I'm going, I allow my footsteps to follow his. Dimly, I realize I'm in some sort of hall, chandeliers and sconces adorning the ceiling and walls and casting a warm glow across the wide chamber. The walls are edged with ornate gold trim, though we walk by much too quickly to admire it.

Moments later, we're in a small room, most of which is occupied by a round table with five seats. Three of the seats are currently housing Clarias, his arms calmly folded across the table, and Susanne and Elisabeth, leaning on their elbows.

"He's alive." Charles announces unceremoniously, guiding me into a chair and sitting in the seat next to me. I can feel everyone's breaths hanging in the air like icicles. I open my mouth to say something, but in the face of Clarias' solemn expression, my words fall to the side, unheard by any.

"So." Clarias regards us all like a mother hawk watching her eggs. "If you are, then, going to be joining our little coalition of sorts, I suppose there are a few things I must clarify for you, lest Tsukuyomi's cursed blades rend you to shreds…"

He pauses and takes a draft from a cup of water sitting in the center of the table. "As you all very well know, Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu are two factions warring against each other; two halves of the same coin, if you will. At our heart lies the same basic principles, yet over time, those principles have been corrupted towards utterly different destinies. It is because of this that we have been forced into our cycle of death, bound to destroy one another as long as we exist. However…" His eyes blaze a furious emerald. "It is our duty- as scions of the one true Goddess, Amaterasu- to end this conflict before it is too late."

No one speaks a word as Clarias' eyes dart across the room like chain lightning. "You all know that in order to utilize the techniques that the four masters of Victoria have granted you, a force known as mana is required. However, in order to truly unravel and understand the secrets of our magic, you must delve even further…to the very construction of mana itself. And therein," he says, indicating Charles with a wave of his hand, "lies the secret of the transion."

"But…" Charles' face is ashen with confusion. "I don't…"

"Mana is thought of as a universal force that resides in all things," Clarias continues, unperturbed, "but in reality it is much more. The force of mana as we know it is composed of untold trillions, quadrillions of particles known as ions. By focusing the ions within and around you, it is how you are able to invoke techniques and cast magic. At its core, that is how the system of magic operates; control the ions, and you control the world."

"Now," Clarias goes on, his fingers resting firmly across the table, "suppose you were to discover a higher form of the ion- a particle charged with even more energy than a normal ion. What if you were to harness this higher form, separate it from the other ions? What if you could even charge the ions yourself? You cannot even begin to imagine the possibilities that could occur. Ions in their normal state are very limited, restraining us to the bare boundaries of magic. It is through these charged ions, the transions, that Tsukuyomi has been able to do the deeds that they have done. With these, they have made monsters fly, stolen the world's treasures from under its eyes, and slaughtered untold billions of innocent creatures at an appalling rate."

"Then that's it." I say, putting a hand to my forehead. "This is how Constantine- he killed all those fire boars, like nothing."

"Precisely." Clarias says, folding his hands flat onto the table. "And it is also how we- the scions of Amaterasu- are able to use our own abilities. Unlike the dark arts of Tsukuyomi, we use transions to extend the limits of our bodies, to grant ourselves abilities far beyond those of others. It is how we are able to combine the powers of the four classes, to create abilities that others can only dream of."

My hands go slack at this revelation. "So that's how you were able to use the abilities of a swordsman and magician at the same time!"

"Yes, or rather the abilities of a White Knight, Crusader, Priest, and Ice/Lightning Mage." Clarias murmurs, his eyes focused over to the table. "It is also how we are able to use abilities that far surpass our level- I believe you must have seen Drake cast Inferno at least once despite his being at least twenty levels away from the third job advancement."

"So…how do we use these transions?" I ask.

The silence coalesces almost immediately after it is broken, save only for the sound of Clarias' fingertips caressing the table in thought.

"It is not something you can truly be taught." he says, quietly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of ominous forebodings. "You must find it within yourselves to seek the transions from around you, to manipulate them…only then will you be able to unlock their secrets. As the oft-quoted proverb goes, I can show you the doors, but you must open them yourself…and pray to the gods that you choose the right path."

Seeing the looks on our faces, he straightens up in his seat and clears his throat. "You need not worry greatly, however. By learning of their existence, you have already taken the first step towards their mastery- a step that the great majority of the world has yet to discover."

He straightens, and his face is less wistful and more business as he looks at us. "I must apologize, for that is all the explanation I can afford you. If you wish for more precise instruction, I suggest you contact one of the Vanir, as they will be more than happy to assist you. After all, we do need all the support we can get." His eyes seem somewhat misty for a moment, and he turns away, his hair dancing lightly at the base of his shoulders.

We are silent, as there is nothing more we can say. It is as if the entire world has collapsed from inside out- here is the secret of Tsukuyomi, these _transions- _and we are going to learn them as well. We will no longer have to worry about further abuse at the hands of the accursed hackers.

Clarias slides his chair inwards to the table and leaves, his teal-colored robe sweeping the floor. I notice that his cape, which is a shade of ivory, is embroidered with a gallant golden cross. He seems to throw one last glance at us before he vanishes into the abyss of the hallways.

"Well." Charles' voice breaks the silence, his fingers kneading the table's surface as his eyes stare blankly into space. "So that was it, the whole time."

As the door is about to close, it swings open once more to reveal Drake, dressed in a neat, trim hauberk of crimson, its edges laced with gold. Like Clarias, he's wearing a cross-emblazoned cape, though its color is silver.

"I see he's told you about the transions." he says bluntly, offering us little more than his usual stiff voice.

"It sounds complicated." Susanne says conversationally, trying to break the ice.

Drake doesn't falter. "It is. But at your level, you'll have a bit more flexibility in what you want to train." His eyes flash briefly once more, and I can think I almost see a bit of manic excitement in his cold pupils. "You might want to consider only choosing transions within your own class; you'll probably kill yourself if you're, say, for instance, a warrior, and you try casting Explosion or Thunder Spear right off the bat."

"Clarias did it." Elisabeth speaks up, her voice lending a welcome relief to the cold halls of Amaterasu's headquarters.

"Well, you aren't Clarias." Drake says simply, crossing his arms as a tacit sign that conversation, for the most part, is over.

"If we don't even know what the hell we're supposed to be doing, how are we going to practice?" Charles retorts.

Drake pauses, his voice hanging in the air by a thread. "You study, genius. If you're a bandit and you want to learn Drain, then pick up an assassin's book. Also, practice your regular techniques until you can pull them off in your sleep. You won't be able to distinguish the transions if you aren't using your abilities to the greatest level of mastery possible. And above all, be _aware. _Make sure you can actually _feel _the transions' charge when you cast artes- don't just take it all for granted that you'll learn something overnight. You'll never learn anything if you try to wing it and pray everything comes out right."

"So…it's all just study and practice?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Drake says, his eyes staring up into the ceiling. "But then again, isn't that what everything in life is?"

I can't answer the question.

_**act XI: valhalla (70) **_

"Every path is unique." Clarias says to us a few months after our initiation. It's a sunny day, and the clouds are light and fluffy in the sky over Orbis.

"It's all written in your body composition, your mana signature. Each person reacts differently to transions, and as such, will have uniquely different abilities as they mature. You can have a set of identical twins, with one of them becoming a crusader-priest and the other a ranger-hermit. It all depends on the person."

"But transions involving two or more base classes are very rare, right?" Charles cuts in.

"_Extremely _rare." Clarias says, with a touch of relish. "You'd be surprised how many people inadvertently commit suicide trying to breach that barrier. I'd say if you're a warrior, stick to being a warrior. If you're a magician, stick to being a magician. In the game of transions, the most important thing is not to kill yourself- that's someone else's job."

"What are the different effects that transions can have on your body?" Susanne asks, her swords laying neatly across her back in a pair of identical sheaths.

She's learned to use two blades at once.

"It depends." Clarias says, with a minor shrug. "In most cases, you'll be able to use the abilities of the different subclasses of your main base class- for example, a crusader would most likely focus his attention on learning white knight and dragon knight techniques. But some others choose to focus their attention on skills in their own branch, honing them to perfection. You may end up learning a third or fourth-job skill at a much earlier level than you would have if you had followed the system. Still others go above and beyond that, modifying the skills they've learned to greater, deadlier forms. A few notable artes have been invented in this way."

He pauses to stare upwards for a moment, while Charles, Susanne, Elisabeth, and I stand behind. My armor is a series of silver plates, inlaid with gold trim, while Charles wears a studded jacket and pants, knives hidden in his belt and pockets as a cutter gleams at his wrist. You can barely look at him without getting a glare off the sunlight.

Susanne is wearing armor as well, though it's less bulky and greatly more flexible than mine. It's a neatly stitched chainmail set with shoulder, elbow and knee plates which do a good amount of justice to her figure. Her ponytail hangs to her waist, completing the ensemble. As for Elisabeth, her clothing is simple but elegant, a white mother-of-pearl dress with several hems touching the ground. A wand of bluish wing-tipped crystal resides in her hand.

"I suppose you'll be all right getting from Victoria and back by yourselves, then?" he asks, a touch of concern in his voice, almost fatherly.

"Of course." I say, my hand trailing to the hilt of the gigantic Doombringer in its sheath.

"Good." Clarias says, turning away. "Keeping track of everyone can be quite exhausting sometimes." There's a slight bit of dryness in his tone which I can't quite discern. "Do take care of yourselves." In the next moment, his outline seems to shimmer in the light before it vanishes, leaving nothing but sunshine and silence behind.

My eyes seem to trace his disappearing outline in the wind. During the short months that I have been a part of Amaterasu, I have seen Clarias as a father figure, and yet he is young enough to be my older brother. I've never asked him his age, but I believe he would be in his early or mid-twenties with his current physique.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to go practice some with these knives." Charles says, twirling a Steely calmly around his index finger. "Seriously, I don't know how these assassins manage. You'd think they'd get carpal tunnel after flinging these things at least a thousand times a day…"

"Why don't you try it and find out?" I say, half-jokingly, and Charles' face reddens considerably before he turns away, no doubt heading towards Orbis Park to single out some pixies or Grupins for target practice. Elisabeth leaves as well, her crystalline eyes hanging on me for the sweetest fraction of a second before she vanishes through the gates. Only Susanne and I are left, our hair fluttering in the breeze.

She breaks the silence first. "We've changed, haven't we?"

"Yes, if you want to put it like that."

Briefly, I recall a hot summer night in Maple Island with a certain dark-haired, glasses-wearing future chief bandit/assassin-in-training.

She steps closer. Her voice is unnaturally soft, like swan feathers. "What do you think of all this?"

"I…well, I honestly don't care one way or the other, you know. Just as long as I don't have to put up with any more crap from those air-headed assholes from Tsukuyomi-"

My voice stops, and I realize how awkward the moment is. Here I am, talking to a girl I've known my entire life, who I've never thought of truly as a girlfriend but rather as a female companion, and the damned proverbial cat's got my tongue.

"It just feels so weird." she says quietly, turning her face away from mine and gazing into the pristine sky. "Years ago, I never would have thought of making it to a crusader. I would have been happy just living quietly in Victoria Island and not having to worry about Tsukuyomi or anything."

"I know." I shake my head. "We've been through a lot together, you and me and Charles."

"Yes, Charles." she says, his name rolling off her tongue with a strange air. "He's really grown up."

"I suppose." I say, the faint semblance of a smile appearing on my lips. Despite the fact that Charles and I now have the same height, I've always thought of him as the smaller of the two of us, the warrior and his faithful sidekick. Second-best.

Old habits die hard, and with them go Susanne's gaze.

"You look- nice." I say, to break the silence if nothing more.

A strange look comes over my childhood friend's eyes, her breath picking up as she stares at me with the chocolate-colored pupils I've never seen so close before.

"You've really grown up, too." she says, her voice barely audible.

That is the last thing she says before I can feel a moment of warm sweetness on my lips, a sweetness I have never seen in her before this moment. To be completely honest, it was a total shock- Susanne Lacrian, one of my childhood friends and neighbors, was kissing me on the lips as if it were nothing at all.

To this day, I still don't know if I returned the kiss or not.

She breaks away from me, the strange look still in her eyes, and slips her hand in mine. Underneath her gauntlets of leather, steel, and adamantine, there's a warmth, a warmth of tender skin that lingers on my palm.

"I've liked you for a long time, Kal." she says quietly, the words barely slipping past my ears, and then she is gone, leaving me with nothing but my own amazement and shock.

My hands fall limp at my sides as my eyes barely catch her figure retreating towards Orbis Park.

I realize, with a strange feeling resting in my gut, that Fate has played a trick upon me; Susanne has fallen in love with me, been in love with me the whole time, and I have never realized it until now.

Yet, I do not love her. Charles Verana does. It is her name he spoke on the day he danced with death through Constantine's cruel blade. It is the name he does not have the courage to utter directly to its owner, as his heart dances with thoughts of her.

I wonder if I should tell her, but the words dissolve on my tongue as I stare past the gates of Orbis Park.

I know I should be training, but my footsteps fall towards the large building where the headquarters of Amaterasu stand. Silently, I pass faces I've never known, some with swords, some with staves, some with bows and some with knives. Each face glances into mine before it fades into my thoughts, a face I might have seen walking down the street or buying a piece of fruit several years ago, a face I may never see again for the rest of my life.

They have all taken the same path I have, and remembering Drake's words, we have all made the greatest sacrifice of our lives- the loss of innocence, of believing blindly that there is no evil in the world.

I pause and turn towards the room where Clarias first discussed transions months ago, and find him calmly sitting there in a rare moment of free time. His eyes are focused on the book that lays on the table, his hair falling over his somewhat-glassy eyes. He turns the page once before looking up.

"Ah, Ancalas." His voice is calm and fair, as if he hasn't got a care in the world. "It is good to see you."

"You, too." My eyes flicker around the walls, so as to avoid catching his gaze. "I thought you were off doing something else."

"Well, given that I finished my tasks exceedingly quickly, I allowed myself a little free time." Clarias smiles jovially, acting more like Father Christmas than the leader of a terrorist-resistance guild. "You seem a bit troubled, however." His emerald-colored eyes peer upwards, boring into mine. "Is something the matter?"

My mouth forms the words before they die out- I have no intention of confiding my personal troubles to someone I've barely known for a few months. "No. I was just…taking a walk."

"So I see." Clarias' pupils seem to detach themselves from his eyes, his deepsea gaze floating upwards serenely. For a moment, I think I can see a bit of forlorn expression written on his features, as though there is something he regrets. "Walking is a good means of relieving stress, though I prefer reading myself." He indicates the book lying flat on the table with a movement of his hand before tracing a line across its pages. Dust flies into the air, visible for a second in the artificial light of the room. "You should read this mythology sometime- it's quite interesting."

"Really?" I ask, half-bored and yet half-interested at the same time.

"Yes." Clarias' eyes seem to fall across the paper, light and shadow intertwined in the reflection of his pupils. I've noticed that whenever the leader of Amaterasu is in a room, his eyes seem to be the main focal point of the entire room.

"They say that this world was created by two ultimate deities of creation, Izanagi and Izanami." Clarias says quietly, his eyes seeming to slip out of focus, caught in the flow of the story. "Brought into existence by the legendary lance Ame-no-nuhoko, they used the spear to storm the seas below and bring up the islands of Maple, Victoria, and Ossyria. After they had done so, they bore their three children upon each of these islands- Susano'o, deity of lightning, his sister Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun, and their sister Tsukuyomi, god of the moon."

My eyes flicker open in surprise. So that is where the two factions got their name from- the battle between the sun and moon, light and darkness, good and evil.

"To make an exceedingly long story short, Ame-no-nuhoko was broken soon after the birth of the three gods." Clarias continues, his eyes half-closed, caught in the depths of his own tale. "It separated into three pieces, of which each sibling received one. Susano'o claimed the sword Kusanagi, Amaterasu received the mirror Yata, and Tsukuyomi took the sacred jewel Yasakani. Thus were the Three Fates born; the three sacred items that would ensure the survival of the new world.

"And for a time, all was well, and the world prospered in safety. But eons after the passing of the original three siblings, their descendants in Heaven fought a war over the Fates, a war so fierce that it nearly destroyed the entire world. This war, known as Ragnarok, was fought between the armies of the gods of Valhalla, descendants of Amaterasu- Odin, Frigga, Thor, Freyr, Freyja, and Heimdall- and the armies of the exiled god, Loki, a distant scion of Tsukuyomi, and his monstrous children Fenrir, the grey wolf, Jormungand the poison serpent, and Hel the decaying girl.

"It was fated that Ragnarok would be the day the gods were destroyed once and for all and control of the world would be given to the humans. Knowing this, the gods of Valhalla attempted to destroy the Fates in the hope that the humans would not abuse their powers for evil and destroy the world. However, they were only partially successful- they succeeded in breaking each of the Fates in two, but not in destroying them. As it turned out, each of the halves of the Fates were claimed by the two sides and reforged into a weapon. Thus, the two halves of Kusanagi became the blades Heimdall and Fenrir; the two fragments of Yata were molded into the staves Yggdrasill and Helfyre; and the two shards of Yasakani were set into the bows Ratatosk and Jormungand. The ancient weapons remained even after the destruction of the gods, and they are destined to lie dormant until the end of time itself."

Clarias finishes the whole thing with a tired sigh, his brows knitting as he runs his fingertips across his forehead. My mind swims as I try to process the information all at once- the battle between Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, the creation of the Fates, everything just seems so sudden, and I cannot figure out why Clarias would invoke this bit of mythology at a time like this.

"They don't…actually exist, do they?" I say, my hands tightening upon the table. "The Fates can't possibly…"

Clarias shakes his head balefully. "As incredible as it may sound, they do exist, though I doubt they arose from such a divine origin. It is more likely that they were forged by a master weapon smith who was much taken with the legend and forged replicas of the Fates. In any case, it is worth noting that they are extremely powerful artifacts; they have even been said to cast transions of their own accord. Certainly, they would grant incredible power to those lucky- and strong- enough to wield one."

He casts a sober gaze at the surface of the table. "I should tell you that the leader of Tsukuyomi has already found one of the Fates, Fenrir."

"What?!"

"Yes, and that is why it is our duty to find the others as soon as possible," Clarias murmurs, suddenly looking very old, "lest the world be plunged into darkness forevermore."

He stands up abruptly, and I blink as his teal-colored robe sweeps the floor.

"I am sorry for telling you this, especially as it does not concern you, but perhaps it might be as well." he murmurs, his fingers closing around the hilt of his rapier. "After all, the Vanir are sacrificing all they can for my sake…perhaps more than I have ever asked them to, and I worry that at any moment they may fall apart."

There is something about his voice that is oddly prophetic, and I wince inwardly as his words flow over me. He leaves the room quietly, so quietly his footsteps are lost in silence. My eyes catch his silhouette for a split second before it vanishes into the air, leaving me alone with the heavy book on the table.

I pick it up and open it, and a single line catches my eyes at the bottom of the page.

_The day that the Fates of the sun and moon are together shall be the day that we kill the gods._

I close the book, and at that, Charles Verana enters.

His dark hair is strewn about his forehead, errant scratches luridly decorating his face. Knives gleam at his belt, showing his progress in the ways of the assassin. The blade of a Kandine knife peeks from between his fingers, its blade shining in the artificial light of the room. There is a beatific, determined look in his eyes- the brilliance of someone determined to prove himself, no matter what.

Privately, I can't help but feel a little irony in my gut. Bandits and assassins are supposed to be tough, uncaring towards the world, looking out for only themselves- all the storybooks and personal experience in the world have taught me that. Yet, Charles is the exact opposite- timid and shy, and perhaps a little sarcastic at times, but ultimately a good companion.

He would have been perfect for Susanne.

"You all right?" he says, catching the look on my face. "I was starting to think you'd died of depression or something…"

"Hm." I can't suppress a smile, weak as it is. "And what'd you do all day, besides worry yourself about me?"

"Practiced some stuff." he says shortly, his smile fading a little. "You'd be surprised how difficult it is to try and throw knives on top of having to learn everything else as a chief bandit…" He breathes out and leans against the table, his fingers splayed out against the flat surface. "If I'd known it was this difficult, I wouldn't have bothered."

"But you did." I say, touching his shoulder briefly. "We all did, knowing that. And we aren't dead anyway- not yet, at least."

"You're right, I guess." He caresses the knives on his belt almost tenderly. "We have to remember why we did this in the first place."

His eyes briefly become misty, and I know there's something hidden behind those lenses that I know he will never tell me, not until the end of time itself.

_**act XII: innocence's requiem (75)**_

Sparks fly through the air as the sound of steel against steel rings across the landscape of Orbis.

"Come on Kal, you can do better than that!" Susanne calls, her crimson blades slashing crescents through the air as her ponytail flows behind her like a dragon's tail. She is elegance defined, her lift armor and curved katanas contrasting against my own plates and greatsword.

For a moment, I think I can see what Charles sees in her, elegance and beauty fused into one, so different from the companion she was several years ago. She is a grown woman now, a crusader in her own right.

Sweet irony that I still think of Charles as a child.

I close my eyes and sift the air with my mind, searching for the precious ions and transions that give life to my artes. My mastery is nowhere near perfect, but good enough, and I take ahold of the particles and draw them together. They coalesce, and with a single thought I draw out their energy.

I cast the incantation for Lightning Charge in my mind and feel a burst of power as bolts of electricity sluice up and down the length of the Doombringer, its handle humming as though it is alive. I assume a stance before lashing out with a diagonal strike, and Susanne manages to catch the incoming edge between her own two swords. Strain flashes upon her face as she struggles against the gigantic brand.

I see her eyes close in concentration before she casts a transion of her own, her swords repelling mine with a sudden burst of strength as wind lashes against my face. Her blades glow with light for a moment before she charges forward, her katanas crashing against my sword in a perpendicular cross. Photons of light fly through the air as the metal makes contact.

Closing my eyes, I decide to break her stance with a transion of my own, and draw upon the ions in the air once more. Focusing energy into the two poles of my sword, I combine fire and ice and wrench past her guard with a high-powered elemental burst. Charged particles flit through the air for a moment before they dissipate, a moment of beauty in the heat of battle.

"You've…really gotten good with those elemental transions, Kal." she pants, a rare smile on her face. Sweat shines her hair as she holds her swords aloft, not willing to give up as usual.

"Susanne, are you done with him yet or do I have to wait until you bury him six feet under?"

Charles is standing there, knives about his fingers as his Kandine gleams in the winter morning. A long scarf is wrapped around his neck for extra warmth, his normally-short vest reinforced with dark chain sleeves and pant legs. It's starting to snow lightly, and the white flakes are visible against his dark clothing. The only article of clothing he's wearing that isn't a shade of night, aside from his scarf, is his cape, parted down the middle, its color a brilliant ivory.

It's similar to the one everyone wears.

"I'd watch out if I were you, Verana." Susanne gives her childhood friend a rare moment of compassion, a rare smile streaking her lips. "He's pretty good at elemental artes now."

"Like hell he is." Charles mutters, twirling his trademark Steelies around his fingers in helixes. "He's been doing the least practicing out of all of us these days."

"Shut up, Charles." I point the Doombringer half-threateningly at him.

For a brief moment, I imagine that we are no longer white knight, crusader, and chief bandit, but simply three innocent children on the shores of Maple Island, enjoying ourselves without a care in the world.

However, it is only a moment.

The first indication I get that something is wrong is when Elisabeth runs up, her black hair flying in the snowy wind as she clutches her staff in hand. Her appearance is bittersweet; it seems that the less I see of her the more beautiful she seems, and I realize that just as Charles never gets as close to Susanne as he'd like, I am the same with her.

Her expression is one of worry, not joy, though- and as happy as I am to see her, I realize she isn't here for good cheer.

The second indication I receive is the arrival of Drake, his own expression looking like one of death as he walks silently across the snow-dusted stone paths that surround Amaterasu's headquarters. He has trained much more than we have recently, the sign of this being the limbs of a Fire Arund resting in the quiver on his back. A dark-colored robe covers his body, a deviation from his usual blood-colored clothing. Similar greaves are protecting his heels.

He is no more cheerful than the day we first met him, his dark ice-blue eyes perfectly matching the snowy landscape.

"They've found us." he says, his voice a cold aura of death.

I can feel the Doombringer slipping slightly from my grip, either from shock or numb from the cold- or perhaps both. I also don't need to ask twice to know who "they" are.

Charles is silent, as is Susanne, and from the snow, I can see more figures of Amaterasu's ranks emerging from the whiteness, obviously senior officers of some sort. A tall woman with dark brown hair and a full-grown figure, clad in a prim suit, appears from nowhere and stands next to Drake, talking with him. Knives hang at her belt, a shortsword tucked into a sheath accompanying it. Another man, with light blonde hair and sharp spectacles, emerges from the white shadows, ice scattered through his hair. He has a large skull-tipped staff hitched across his back, a spear-blade protruding through the skull.

"The Vanir." Elisabeth whispers softly, as Drake continues talking and more figures appear. "The senior officers of Amaterasu."

After a few short minutes, the Vanir part as Clarias walks through the small congregation, his familiar teal-colored robe sweeping the snowy walkway. His rapier is unsheathed, but it hangs at his side as he talks.

"Has everyone been alerted?" he asks a tall, skull-helmeted swordsman standing by, his massive silver blade held at the ready.

The swordsman answers with a simple grunt.

"Well, that's wonderful." Clarias mutters, before focusing his attention on us. "I suppose you've heard the news."

"Yes." I tighten my grip on the blade. "What do you want us to do?"

Clarias sighs. "I won't hide anything from you here. If Tsukuyomi sees you, they'll kill you- and it's no use to hide, they'll just flush us out with gravity transions. Our only consolation is that the force they're sending isn't too large, so we've got nothing to do except charge and hope we win."

I can see distress scrawled across Charles' face, and Susanne's expression is unreadable. Elisabeth looks somewhat scared, and I don't blame her at all- I feel exactly the same way inside.

My hand reaches out to touch hers, but Susanne's fingers take mine first- and as her touch mingles with mine, I can hear her voice whisper three short words.

As she does so, I look at Charles, silently brooding to himself as he fingers his dagger, and I can't bear it anymore.

I break her grip and walk over to him, touching his shoulder as snow falls.

"Scared?"

His face turns the color of the snow before it goes back to its original color. "Of course I am. Who wouldn't be?"

"Charles, I-"

His face intently stares at mine, the admiring child and best friend, and I realize I can't bear to tell him, because it would hurt him more than any blade, and that is the last thing I want.

"They'll breach our shields in sixty seconds." the woman standing next to Drake says, her voice cool and emotionless. I steal a glance at the Vanir, and am surprised to find that there is not the least bit of trepidation on their faces- they are welcoming death, totally unafraid of it, as they stand there.

Drake nods in response and strings his bow neatly, fire dancing at his fingertips as his oaken hair flutters in the icy breeze. Snow is starting to cover the ground now, about a half-inch of drift covering the heels of my boots.

I notice that Drake is the youngest member of the Vanir.

"Good luck." Clarias says, his eyes glancing at us as he holds his rapier aloft. I look up one last time and see the affection in his eyes for us, almost as though we are intimate members of his family.

That is the last thing I remember before the floodgates of hell burst.

I can hear screams, shouts, and explosions in the distance and know that they are coming- the Vanir ready themselves, their expressions hardening just a slight bit. Aside from me, Charles gulps and draws his knives, while Susanne holds her swords as icy sweat pours down her neck. Elisabeth is wide-eyed as usual, clutching to her staff for dear life.

I feel as though there's something I should say to them, but words die away as the silhouettes of people emerge in the far-off distance.

"This is it." Clarias says, raising his blade to the white sky. "Know this- that you fight for the lives of those untarnished by greed- that if you die, you shall be protecting the innocent under the wings of Amaterasu- and that your children's children shall remember you until the end of time! Now _charge!" _

His voice is like that of a thunderbolt, and it instantly galvanizes the Vanir- with a single, full-throated war cry, they draw their weapons and charge forward to meet the Tsukuyomi attackers. I see Drake's face for a fraction of a second, his ice-blue eyes cold and determined- before he disappears in a sea of faces I may never see again. 

I clench my blade as flame dances up and down its length. _It's now or never._

Charles whispers the incantation for Haste under his breath, and with that we run across the snow to meet our destiny.

The sight as we move near is indescribable. Both those of Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu are fighting to a degree of skill I have never seen before- I can feel the transions being cast, so great is the energy in the air. Bodies are constantly being thrown into the air, another life lost to the madness of war between good and evil.

"Stay close." I whisper, before Charles and I charge forward, adrenaline flowing through our veins. I can barely glimpse Susanne and Elisabeth for a second before a member of Tsukuyomi lunges towards us, his spear glowing with energy-

Without flinching, Charles cleaves his arm through the air and sends two knives into the knight's chest, the razor-sharp points of the kunai piercing his armor with loud cracks. He staggers briefly, and in that frame of time, I make my move. There is a rush of energy as I thrust the blade forward, and then suddenly, the snow becomes red.

My eyes catch Charles' gaze briefly. _Now I am a murderer._

All of a sudden, lightning strikes mere inches away from me, and I dive to the side to see a dark-haired magician, his face contorted into a cruel snarl as he points his staff at us. He swipes his staff once more, and suddenly I can feel myself flying through the air towards him, caught in a gravity transion. Images of Constantine and fire boars are flooding through my head, and I realize I'm going to die.

But I refuse to go quietly- concentrating my fury, I combine fire and lightning transions and stab the sword through the air even as I soar towards my demise. The transions split the air, creating a mighty shockwave of energy- and it collides with the mage at point-blank range just before he can cast another spell. He is sent flying, his charred and broken body crashing to the side like a rag doll.

I catch a glimpse of Charles furiously dueling with a swordsman before I meet the rabid gaze of an assassin, his face twisted as energy coalesces in his hand, and a massive throwing star is suddenly in his fist. With massive strength, he hurls it at me, and I can barely block it in time- it seems to move as though defying the laws of aerophysics.

He clenches his fist, and two more stars appear in his hands. I dive to the side, but that does not stop them- they seem to bend aside before changing their course towards me, and I realize he has applied a transion to his technique. With no room to draw my sword and block, I call upon a transion of my own, surrounding myself with a field of electricity. The resulting charge is enough to deflect the projectiles' path, giving me time to get to my feet and destroy them.

Snarling, the assassin readies himself for a third assault, but before he can do so, the blade of a katana suddenly appears through his chest, and he gives a great gasp once before toppling forward. Behind him, I see the familiar ponytail of Susanne, both her blades shiny with blood. There are several cuts across her face and armor, most of which are bleeding fresh.

I turn to the side and see Drake and the female Vanir from before dueling against a Tsukuyomi swordsman and magician. Drake closes his eyes and pulls back the string of his bow, and there is a thunderous noise as a helix of flame spirals from his hand and lunges towards the hackers. Wordlessly, the mage raises his staff and deflects the assault with a simple swipe of his wrist- only to return it tenfold as a sudden explosion rends the air near Drake, throwing both of the Vanir across the ground. Drake manages to get up with minor burns and bruises, but the woman isn't as lucky- nearly all of her face has been burned by the attack, destroying her previous beauty. She lies unmoving upon the ground, snow covering her scorched figure.

"Asteria!" Drake screams in despair, but she is long gone, and with a feral snarl, he raises his bow and lets loose a firestorm of flaming arrows in rapid succession, so quickly it appears like a single blast of continuous fire. I can see the mage's face contort as he tries to block the repeated attacks- only to be thwarted as Drake casts a second transion, a large fountain-like stream of fire exploding from the ground at high velocity. Both the swordsman and the mage are tossed through the air, their burned bodies hitting the ground several yards away with unmoving thuds.

Silently, I watch as Drake kneels over Asteria and touches her shoulder. For a moment, I think I can see a tear fall from his face, but it may just have been an errant snowflake. I see him mouth some words silently before he gets up, the same manic, feral expression across his face as he lunges deeper into the fray.

All of a sudden, a blinding storm of ice comes howling towards me, and I can only manage to block it by casting a fire transion. A Tsukuyomi sniper is standing there, madness crossing his face as he is flanked by a bandit and a ranger, their weapons leveled at me. I can feel trepidation rising inside me- there is no way I'll be able to survive a three-on-one assault, yet I cannot give up, for the world's sake.

I charge forward, and this surprises them- why is this hopelessly outnumbered warrior charging towards his death?- for a precious moment, and I manage to stab the sniper clean through the chest, the fiery Doombringer passing through his body.

As he dies, he lets out a dreadful cry- I still can't describe it. It sounds as though a possessed soul is leaving his body. As he slumps lifelessly to the ground, I hear him utter a few words in a voice so soft and weak, it is as though it comes from the mouth of a newborn child.

"My love…I'm so…sorry…" he breathes, blood seeping from his mouth before he collapses backwards. This all happens in a fraction of a second, and I realize in the remainder of that time that his companions aren't going to let me get away so soon. I raise my blade to block, though I know it is futile, and await death-

A sudden burst of blue lightning barrels through the assassin and ranger before they can strike, throwing grotesque patterns of blood across the snow as their bodies roll away. I turn to the side and see Clarias, his rapier raised as his teal uniform flutters at his heels. Blood is streaking his face from a cut on his forehead.

"Clarias!" I manage to gasp, my lungs hurting from the cold air. "Thank the Goddess you-"

"No time for that, look behind you!" the leader of the Vanir shouts, and I whirl around just in time to meet the blade of a large crescent axe as it hurtles towards my neck. I meet the enemy crusader's gaze for a moment before I cast, wrenching my sword upwards in a shower of ice. The pointed shards of frozen water streak his armor and face, leaving bloody trails behind- before he can react, I wrench the sword through the air once more and crush his side. He falls, blood pooling from his mouth, his weapon hitting the ground with a thud.

Behind me, Clarias duels valiantly against a team of another crusader and a dragon knight, their gigantic weapons dwarfing his own thin rapier. Yet Clarias does not falter, blocking their attacks with as much finesse and skill as a master duelist, and disarms them with two well-placed slashes to their arms. Before they can react, he slashes his blade through the frigid air, and there is a thunderous crack as gigantic spears of ice shoot forth from the ground and impale the warriors where they stand. More crimson streaks the snow as Clarias lowers his rapier.

"That was amazing." I say frankly, as Clarias runs his emerald eyes across the blade's bloodied edge. "How could your sword block both an incoming axe and a spear at the same time?"

"Balizarde has never failed me yet." Clarias says simply, pirouetting the thin brand through the air. "Unfortunately, I cannot say as much for the rest of our forces. We have suffered heavy losses against the frontline of invaders, despite the fact that we outnumber them."

My mind instantly whirls through several horrific scenes at the words "heavy losses", each more terrible than the one before it. "How-"

"The enemy that is most dangerous is that which has nothing left to live for." Clarias mutters rhetorically, seeming to ignore my presence for a brief moment.

Suddenly, a figure appears behind Clarias, and I instinctively draw my sword, but it turns out to be nothing more than one of the Vanir- the same light-haired spectacled mage I saw near the beginning of the fight. A small corner of his mouth is bleeding, and his robes are torn.

"Reynard." Clarias nods to the man. "This had better be good."

"Tsukuyomi's retreating." Reynard replies, his expression and voice cool. "However…" He casts a glance behind himself, regarding the scene of destruction that now covers Orbis, and his glasses slip a little. "We've sustained some terrible losses."

"So I thought." Clarias replies, green light shining from his fingers as he heals the three of us with a spell. "Take census of those that still remain, if you could."

Reynard nods briefly before teleporting away, and Clarias touches my shoulder lightly. "May peace be with you." he says, solemnly.

Without saying any more, I walk through the crimson-stained snow in search of someone- anyone. The scene is devastating- over a hundred bodies are lying across the stone walks, their black and white capes testifying their dedication to their beliefs, their determination to die for the sake of one of two worlds.

The first face that greets me is Elisabeth, her face and body covered with cuts, bruises, and burns. It barely affects her beauty in my eyes, though, and as soon as she sees me, she rushes over and takes me in a hug.

Prior to this moment, I would have given the world for that to happen, but in the context of the ruins about us, the gesture loses its otherworldly meaning.

"I was so worried." she whispers, her eyes shining with tears. "I thought…I thought…"

She says nothing more, just sobs into my chest. For a moment, there's so much I want to say to her, but the words won't come. I know how she feels- it is her first time confronting death on such a large scale, and in a way, it is mine as well. Before this moment, I had never known the horror of what humans were capable of doing each other, the death and destruction that could occur all because of the evils of one thing, the transions.

Drake was right- the illusion was gone.

I let go of Elisabeth and take her hand in mine, and we walk across the destroyed lands not saying anything to each other. I can see more survivors wandering about as aimlessly as we are, their weapons sheathed as they survey the wreckage. Some are crying, holding the hand of someone they once knew as their friend. Others are emotionless, having learned to sever the ties of friendship long ago as part of their initiation.

It is some time, wandering past countless dead and not knowing if I have ever seen them before in my life, before we meet Drake. The Vanir's face is as emotionless as ever, his oaken hair barely grazing his shoulders in the wind. Like almost all of the survivors, he's injured- there are several cuts across his face and body, with not-yet-dry blood. There's an expression on his face that bodes ill, an expression that only sharpens when he sees us.

Even considering Drake's less-than-amiable personality, I can feel icy lead drop into my chest when I see his face, and my sword slips from my hand into the snow with a thud. It is some time before I find the ability to speak.

"Where's…Charles and Susanne?" I ask, the wind catching my voice and throwing it to the abyss.

Taciturn as ever, Drake merely points a finger to the side, his eyes saying more than words ever could. Dropping Elisabeth's hand, I follow his gaze and see the shadowed outline of Charles kneeling in the distance, his hair silently blowing in the wind.

As I approach him, I can see Susanne's body lying on the ground, a thin veil of fresh snow covering her figure. Her armor has been broken in several places, exposing bloody gashes underneath. The blades of three swords lie embedded in her chest, sticking straight up from her bosom like gruesome memorials to her demise. Her mouth, barely open, is seeping blood onto the snow- her face is pale, her eyes closed. Her crimson swords, cracked and broken like their fallen master, lie in the snow next to her.

A few paces away, the mangled corpses of three dark-caped warriors lie on the ground, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Their bodies have been twisted into awkward positions, as though their bones were forcibly broken and thrown like rag dolls, and their figures are covered with so many cuts that they seem more like pieces of meat than the bodies of human beings.

I notice the blade of a Kandine buried in the back of one of the warriors.

Silently, Charles takes ahold of Susanne's broken hand with his own, and I wonder if she ever found out he loved her before she died.

_**act XIII: betrayal of the most divine (80)**_

For the first time in what seems like years, Charles Verana is silent.

I would have considered that a miracle a few years ago, but right now it is depressing more than anything. After Susanne's death, it is as though a part of him has died along with her, and unfortunately, it isn't the really annoying part.

He has begun to work on normal techniques in his spare time, either igniting his spare change or studying alchemy textbooks whenever he has a moment. Likewise, I've thrown myself into my own training, learning to manipulate elemental transions even without the use of a weapon- hard, difficult, and strenuous work, yet ultimately satisfying. We are both advancing at a rate that Clarias himself has praised, probably even going to be eligible for entry into the Vanir sometime soon.

Yet, there is a void in both of us left by her death, because without her we will never be the same. Once the three friends of Maple Island, we are now only two, and very taciturn friends at that. We both deliberately avoid each others' gazes in passing, and when we do talk, talk as if we are mere colleagues and not childhood friends.

Through it all, my thoughts steadfastly manifest around two things: the whereabouts of the Fates, and Elisabeth Caelis.

Clarias has not explicitly mentioned anything about the Fates since our last encounter, but it is obvious that the Vanir are aware of the situation, as they are frequently busy doing something or other these days. Drake in particular has become consequently more moody and less talkative- not that he ever talked much before, but I am becoming both suspicious and worried about him. It's almost as if he has his own agenda, his own path to take.

Some months after Susanne's death, I meet Clarias in the hall and ask him if any of the other Fates have been found yet.

"Unfortunately, no." he says, running a hand uncomfortably along his forehead. "About a third of the Vanir are under orders to search Ossyria and another few are combing Victoria, but we haven't made any progress yet."

"You should appoint more people to the case." I say calmly, blatantly implying my own desire to do _something_ so I can forget about my troubles. "We can't risk Tsukuyomi getting their hands on another-"

My words fall silent in the face of his expression, and he says, "The grey wolf watches over the hall of the gods."

As usual, his closing remark is apocryphal, and I have not the mindset to trouble myself about it now- so my thoughts naturally float to the other object that has been occupying my mind as of late.

It seems I see less of the priestess with every passing day, her dark hair mere phantasms in the fantasies of my mind. Despite the mellowing soul-bashing that one inevitably receives after joining Amaterasu, she has still retained the same child-like looks that I first noticed in her at Perion, if a little drawn these days.

I soon reach the eightieth level of my experience, Charles following soon after, and I fill out a request to Clarias for a transfer from the main headquarters in Orbis to a smaller outpost in Victoria Island, near Ellinia.

Clarias receives it with a bit of surprise- we both know that the Ellinia base is less-populated and consequently less-guarded than Orbis. Besides, the number of Tsukuyomi operatives in the island is far greater.

"You're sure about this?" he says to me across from a table in Orbis. This time, I am not speaking to him as a personal friend, but as a unit to his superior.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." I say, clenching my knuckles. The newly-purchased Blue Screamer on my back reflects its crystalline glow into Clarias' face, turning his eyes an eerie sea-green.

Clarias sighs, somewhat regretfully, but his face shows nothing. "So be it." he says, signing away my proximity to Charles and Elisabeth with a stroke of his pen.

As an operative in Victoria, I take more of a role in day-to-day affairs, and find myself playing guardian angel on more than one occasion in the forests of Ellinia. Junior Tsukuyomi operatives abusing even younger apprentice magicians, warriors, and the like in the dungeons of Ellinia need only take one glance at my sword before taking to their heels. I know that I run the constant risk of provoking retribution from a more experienced Tsukuyomi member, but it is a burden that I share with the others at Ellinia. The Vanir and junior operatives at Ellinia are all unfamiliar faces, save for one.

Shortly after Susanne's death, Drake transferred to Victoria as well, about four months earlier than the time of my request. He remained as cold as ever when I asked him his reasons for doing so, aside from "I wanted a change of pace."

As I glance into his ice-blue eyes time after time, my suspicions and fears about him grow greater by the day. Days melt into weeks and weeks pass into months, and those suspicions have been nurtured by my empty mind almost to the point of paranoia.

Despite the fact that Drake Montag is a Vanir of Amaterasu- my close friend and trusted ally- there has been something about him that I have never been able to shake off since the day I met him.

My fears come to a head when a daily census report shows Drake isn't at Ellinia. That in itself would not have been out of the ordinary, since Vanir are authorized to travel wherever they want in Bera, but he also isn't anywhere on Victoria- or Ossyria, for that matter. His mana signature has inexplicably disappeared from the system that Amaterasu keeps, making it impossible to track him through any means besides physically searching for him.

Other members of the Vanir reassure me that there is nothing wrong, that mana signatures fluctuate all the time and it gets difficult to keep track of them at some times, that he will return and everything will be back to normal.

I want to believe that, but as I recall the rare moments when I have seen Drake truly angry- the moment after Charles' and my encounter with Constantine, the clash with Tsukuyomi at Golem's Temple, and Asteria's demise at Orbis, I realize that my mind will not be at peace unless I find out what he is up to once and for all.

Because I have not quite mastered the intricacies of using a communication transion, I take a ship post-haste to Orbis and meet with Clarias to communicate my suspicions in person.

He seems slightly surprised at first, but as the conversation goes on, his apprehension seems to degenerate into amusement. However, at the end of my speech, where I state all my previous experiences with Drake to him, he becomes slightly pensive once more.

"Yes, Montag has been well-known among the Vanir for some time for his…temper." Clarias finally concurs, his hair sweeping his shoulders. "It is difficult to determine whether his transions or personality are more feared by the agents of Tsukuyomi."

"They're afraid of him?" I ask quizzically, laying a hand on the desk.

"_You _are." Clarias points out, at which I blanch. "However, I _would_ suggest to you not to attempt to track Montag down. The results could prove disastrous for you, despite the fact that you are both part of Amaterasu. Like each of the Vanir, Montag has his own personal thoughts and conflicts…and I find it best not to meddle with them." He calmly folds his hands together and glances at me with an expression of pristine calm.

"I don't understand." I finally sigh, letting my chin hit the table with a dull thud. My silver hair hangs to the table's surface.

"If you had, we would not be having this conversation." Clarias says calmly, his eyes glimmering like starlight as he exits the room.

Despite Clarias' advice, I leave for Ellinia once more and set about trying to track Drake down. This is easier said than done, I find, as I realize that practically no one, even his fellow Vanir, know anything about the taciturn ranger. No family, no leads, no tracks. Just stories, and unreliable ones at that.

"Well, I heard from a friend that he might've been seen near Kerning City last morning." a stocky, well-built fighter says with a shrug, sharpening his axe on a rotating stone made of hardened, petrified wood.

I might as well be wasting the day, but at least it's something to do, and so I head for the thieves' city without delay. Indeed, the first thing I see when I enter the city is not Drake, but rather a small group of Tsukuyomi grunts sitting in the shade of a nearby graffiti-decorated wall, identifiable by their black moonlight capes.

My first impulse is to intimidate them- I am twice their level, after all- but I finally decide against it, realizing I would only be sinking to their level in doing so, and simply decide to walk past and ignore them.

Unfortunately, I can't do this, for as I walk past, I hear the word "Montag" slip from one of the operatives' mouths.

I freeze for a fraction of a second, then continue walking, but as soon as I am out of sight I duck into a nearby alleyway and change clothes, taking off my cape and hiding the rest of my equipment inside a garbage can. To prevent it from being stolen, I rearrange the position of the cans so that the one with my stuff in it is the one located against the far back of the alley.

Indistinguishable from a normal beginner, I make my way back to the Tsukuyomi grunts and stop by a nearby stall selling throwing stars. While pretending to inspect the merchandise, I eavesdrop on their conversation in hopes of finding out something about Drake's whereabouts.

"…so…Montag…killed everyone?"

"…yeah…heard he was pretty strong…" They are talking in whispers, half out of secrecy, but also, I imagine, half out of fear that Drake will pop in any minute with arrows leveled at their heads.

"…where is he now?"

"…survivor said he was going to Sleepywood tomorrow at noon to settle an old score…wouldn't wanna be there when he-"

The stall owner finally gets impatient and shouts, "If you're not going to buy it, you little twit, then don't get your greasy fingerprints all over it!"

Quickly, the Tsukuyomi grunts stagger to their feet and see me, and one of them briefly flashes a rude hand gesture in my direction before they disappear into a nearby building. To placate the stall owner, I buy two sets of Subi stars, then rush back to the alley with my newfound intelligence in tow. I rummage through the garbage can and reclaim my equipment, tossing the stars back inside with a loud clang, and remind myself to take a shower when I get back to Ellinia.

Morning breaks when I awaken at eight in the morning, and I realize I have four hours left before my rendezvous with Drake- that is, if he shows up. I eat breakfast hurriedly, and ignoring the remarks from other members of Amaterasu, head off towards the route that leads to the Dungeon at once.

Ennui rears its ugly head when I get to Sleepywood, and I pass the time by relaxing in the sauna- or at least, trying to relax while I get odd looks from people who ask me, half-jokingly, if there's someone I'm planning to meet.

"Sort of." I say off-handedly, and they quickly lose interest in me after a while.

Through the haze of steam in the room, I catch a glimpse of a clock telling me it's 11:58 A.M., and I rush out, pulling on my clothes and armor over my steam-wrinkled skin, and rushing into the village square.

The seconds pass by, and Drake does not arrive. My forehead wrinkles nervously- Drake, as hostile as he is, doesn't sound like the kind of person who would be late for an appointment.

More time passes by, and the ranger still does not appear- though somebody else does.

I glance up and see none other than Constantine emerging from the Ant Tunnel, a group of flunkies following after him. Based on his appearance, I can guess that he's about level 90+, still higher than I am, which is not good for my chances of survival.

Before I can think up a plan for escape, however, he approaches nearer, and trying to draw attention away from myself, I run my hair through my fingers, trying to look casual. I see Constantine glance towards me for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing me, and my blood immediately runs cold. _This is it, _I think, _he's really going to…_

But my mind does not complete that sentence as he turns away without another word. I can only stare in shocked silence as he and his group pass by, and I am left to wonder why? Was it because he did not recognize me after all those years, or was it because he was too preoccupied with his own affairs to even take notice of my presence?

Constantine disappears into the west exit of Sleepywood, and though this is just inviting trouble, I follow him as stealthily as I can wearing several dozen pounds of plate armor and holding a gigantic four-foot sword.

The chief bandit drops down to the lowest ledges of the forest and disappears into a small enclave nearby; I wait until they are out of earshot before climbing down myself, hitting the ground with a thud. I take off my cape and stow it away, deciding not to attract attention to myself. I am about to follow him when I realize that if Constantine finds me lurking behind him in this secret passage, my chances of survival would not be very high. Resignedly, I turn back and return to Sleepywood, Drake and Constantine weighing heavily on my mind.

I return to the town square in hopes of catching Drake, but even after fifteen minutes pass by the assigned hour, he still has not shown up. Perhaps I misheard the grunts in Kerning City?

That thought is blown out of my mind when I see something staggering through the west entrance- one of the grunts that had previously been following Constantine, his clothes torn and scorched, blood and burns streaking his body. But most strikingly, several arrow shafts are sticking from his back- and if there was any lingering doubt about who was behind this, it was dispelled when the dying bandit mouthed two syllables that I could easily lip-read:

"_Montag…"_

As he collapses to the ground, to the shock of everyone else in the village, I run past him through the west entrance and rush down to the bottom ledge of the forest. Not caring what happens, I dive down into the enclave and push some low-hanging branches from my head, unprepared for what I see next.

Drake is standing in the center of the clearing, his bow strung and drawn. Constantine is lying on the ground, his face bloody and his clothes in tatters. Drake's bow is leveled at his head. Behind him, the similarly-beaten and burned fledglings under his care are quivering in the corner, fear showing in their eyes as they watch Drake, the fierce look that I have come to fear upon his face once more. His ice-blue pupils rule the landscape, almost as though they are the center of the universe.

Slowly, Drake and Constantine's eyes turn to me, the latter with shock and fear, the former with an unfazed expression.

For a moment, I am afraid that he will turn the bow on me, but he merely says, "This doesn't concern you, Ancalas. If you don't mind, Canach and I are in the middle of something."

So Canach is Constantine's last name, I realize. From his current position, he looks pitiful, his face bloody and burned, a far cry from the sneering, arrogant bandit he was so long ago.

I should be happy upon seeing him like this, and yet I am not. I see him being treated as an animal- worse than an animal- and in the back of my head, I know this is what he deserves, and yet I cannot bring myself to truly accept it. He is down, stripped of all his dignity, however ill-deserved it was, reduced to that which he had once despised. My experience with Susanne's death has softened me to mortality- I realize that he could be anyone else under the paw of a Tsukuyomi hound, helpless to his fate.

The irony in this is too bitterly cruel for me to swallow, and I turn away. Drake, finally deciding to act as though I am a part of the scenery, turns his attention back to Constantine.

"So, Canach…" he says, his voice burning, poisonous honey- how he manages to combine those elements in his voice is beyond me. "I suppose you thought crossing my path was such a great idea a few days ago."

Constantine coughs, sending droplets of blood and saliva onto the forest floor. "Believe me, Montag, I would never have…if I had known…"

"Bull." Drake spits, as if the word is a red-hot poker. "You know perfectly well we're at war here, Canach. How many innocents have you killed in your mad pursuit of power, along with the rest of your flea-bitten guild? All your life you've devoted your cause to destroying us, and you think we're going to take it lying down? Let me tell you, you are one sad little misguided-"

He lets go of the string, sending the arrow whizzing dangerously close to Constantine's head. I see the bandit wince in pain and I realize the corner of his ear is bleeding. A mad smile lights up Drake's features, a single ray of light piercing the forest canopy and landing on his face to accentuate the effect.

"Well, one thing's for sure." he says, leveling another arrow to his bow as he kicks Constantine in the chest, bringing up more blood. "You aren't going to be stealing any more stuff from me in the near future."

Constantine's eyes dilate, and for the first time, I see him as human. A single tear makes its way from the dying bandit's left eye before it is absorbed by the thirsty ground below.

"Please…" he whispers, his voice reduced to a mere fraction of the arrogant, condescending tone years ago. "I…I never wanted to…join them…"

Drake acts as if he hasn't heard, his bow still leveled unflinchingly at the defenseless man underneath him.

"I…had to pay…our family's debts…" Constantine breathes weakly, no longer aware of my presence. His eyes are rolling back in and out of his head. "I…I needed the money…I had no…choice…"

"Hm." Drake sniffs the air disdainfully, the breeze ruffling his oaken hair.

"My sister…has a terminal illness…" he whispers hoarsely, more blood coming out. "Please…she's only…twelve years old…and she's dying…"

Another tear escapes his left eye.

"They told me…they would save her…if I promised…to serve them…"

I wish I could believe he is lying, but he isn't- a fact that makes it all the more painful to watch.

_Stop it, _my conscience says. _He tried to kill you!_

_He still doesn't deserve this! No one does!_

"Ha!" Drake laughs and spits on the ground near the bandit, his words piercing each other like flaming arrows. "Rationalization! Everyone does it, thinking that there's an excuse for their crimes- that someone will benefit from their abusing their transions- well, tell me this, you big brother- how many other innocent people do you think are in this world with sick baby sisters? Do they go out breaking nature's laws in their siblings' names like you?"

Constantine doesn't reply, his eyes glazed backwards. He is barely breathing at this point.

"Now, atone for your crimes in hell, fiend!" Drake roars, releasing the bowstring as he fires four arrows straight into Constantine's body. The bandit convulses once as pain overtakes him- a strangled sound escapes his mouth as blood pools underneath him- and then his head hits the ground with a thud, his eyes blank, his body unmoving.

Drake watches Constantine's corpse twitch one final time before he kicks it aside unceremoniously. "Pathetic fool."

I watch all of this, horrorstruck, as Drake turns his cool eyes towards me. "You seem a bit disturbed, Ancalas."

"You- you…" My mind searches for words and finds none. "How could you kill him like that?!"

"He was a senior member of Tsukuyomi- therefore, he's fair game." Drake says coolly, folding his arms across his chest. "How many of them did you kill in the battle a few months ago when they invaded our headquarters?"

"That was different!" I roar, my fists clenched with reckless abandon. "That was- that was a provoked war! You just-"

Drake shakes his head. "Do you know what that piece of garbage did? We've got records on him longer than your sword. He's orchestrated over a hundred wide-range gravity hacks and killed at least ten members of Amaterasu- just for his _sister." _The last word of the sentence drips with poison. "Poor girl, having such a brother like that…"

I can say no more, and Drake gives me a caustic smile. "Come now, Ancalas. Don't tell me you're crying over Tsukuyomi's spilled blood."

"Drake…why?" I whisper. "You're a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer just like the rest of them. You're no better than any person in Tsukuyomi is!"

I expect many things in response to this statement, but what I don't expect is Drake's smile to widen.

"Very perceptive, Ancalas." Drake says calmly, his eyes focused on me. "Yes, you are right, in a way…because I am a member of Tsukuyomi, or rather, _was _a member, before certain circumstances arose."

The floor seems to fall out from underneath me- Drake, the anti-hacker and fervent Vanir I have known for so many months, was a former member of Tsukuyomi, the great unspeakable?

"I joined Tsukuyomi at a young age for the same reasons that others do- for wealth, fame, and glory. Just think- with the secrets of the transions at my hand, I could be invincible! I would never have to bow down to anyone else in the world, I could do as I please whenever I wanted! You must realize, Ancalas, that these promises of power are much too much for any mortal to ignore- hence, Tsukuyomi's popularity these days.

"But as time went on, I realized that Tsukuyomi could no longer serve my purposes. I realized that though I had learned transions, mastered them, I was still inferior- inferior to those who had learned them first, mastered them first. That is the great tragedy of life, Ancalas- no matter how high you think you are, there is always somebody greater… Tell me, Ancalas- have you ever felt hopeless, useless, as though you were nothing in the world? Have you felt that the whole world was cruel, maligned against you, as though each of its inhabitants were plotting your demise?"

I fall silent as Drake broods, his breath hanging in the air. A thousand different emotions are running through my head, and it hurts to keep track of them. I cannot tell whether I feel pity, empathy, or disgust with the person before me- or whether it is all of them at once.

"That did it. I realized that Tsukuyomi, after all, did not care about me; I was but a drone, a unit in the entire hive. What did it matter to them if I was killed in a street brawl, crushed by a gravity transion, if it meant I could serve their purposes to the end of time? I served only as an object of ridicule to those greater than me, and I was determined to end it."

His eyes suddenly become misty, almost wistful.

"The soul who irked me most of all was a fellow by the name of Cassian. Brilliant hacker, he was. People practically signed contracts to him with their own blood just so they could say they'd done it. He was a master of gravity transions, able to mass-slaughter thousands of monsters and steal thousands more items in mere hours. And he knew it. He treated everyone- not just others, but those close to him- like dirt, as if we were beneath the dirt under his feet. Of course, we all idolized him, though we all despised him as well. You can imagine how I felt towards him- wishing he would suffer a terrible, painful death in retribution for all the wrongs he'd done me, and yet wanting to be like him all the same."

His knuckles suddenly turn white upon his bow.

"It was a winter day, I recall." he says, a manic smile beginning to spread across his face once more. "Being the obnoxious teenager that I was, I asked Cassian if he could please show me a gravity transion of his own, in exchange for anything. I idolized him, I said; I wanted to be like him, live him, breathe him, worship him. I promised eternal servitude if only he would reveal to me his secrets. In response, he pushed me to the ground and spat in my face."

The smile grows wider, revealing Drake's teeth. His ice-blue pupils are wide, shining in the relative darkness of the forest.

"I said nothing, did nothing as I lay there and he continued to curse at me for the better part of a half hour, telling me what a pathetic little bastard I was and that I should go serve society by blowing my brains out. I stood up and remained silent, watching him turn away, walk six, seven steps…and then…"

Drake closes his eyes in bliss, running his fingers along the limbs of his sleek bow.

"I shot him."

Though I knew the final blow was coming, it was still a shock to hear it nevertheless.

"I saw him fall, watched him die," Drake whispered, blue fire glimmering in his normally-cold irises. "I watched his dirty, soulless body crumble and wither to nothing, and I knew my destiny was complete.

"There is no good or evil, Ancalas- no right or wrong, no gods of the sun or moon. There is only power, and those brave enough to seek it and control it. Mark my words- as sure as I stand upon the hallowed ground of this world, I shall destroy Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu under my hands and become the true master of the world's transions!"

His eyes are now leveled at me, with a strange mixture of ferocity and yet, somehow, regret.

"Stand out of the way, Ancalas," he breathes, his voice now barely audible, a sliver of what it was before, "or I shall have to kill you."

"No…" I whisper, more out of disbelief than anything. "No, Drake, tell me it isn't true, anything but this…" My voice carries desperation in its depths, desperation that Drake, the friend I thought I had known, would do something like this.

"Stand aside, Ancalas!" Drake snarls, a tiny bit of desperation beginning to cloud the Vanir's face. I cannot tell what he is thinking- would he truly do it? Would he kill me, Charles, Elisabeth, and Clarias just for his own purposes- would he become that which he truly despised himself?

"No!" I shout, clenching a fist near the handle of my sword.

Drake levels his bow at me with a deadly, still air, yet I can see a bead of sweat running down his forehead. He is hesitating- this is the first time he has spilled Amaterasu's blood across the lands. _"Stand aside!"_

_"Never!" _I roar back, knowing with that one word I have sealed my fate.

Drake's eyes flash, the bowstring snaps back, and flame rushes towards me- yet I am prepared. As if time has slowed itself down, I pull the great blade of crystal from its sheath and cast a transion of ice. Particles and transions in the air fuse, creating a barrier of frozen matter that stands between me and the incoming inferno. The flames strike the ice with a loud hiss, steam rising into the air, but when it clears, I am left unharmed.

Without pausing, battle instinct kicks in, and I draw the sword knowing if I do not do so, it will be my life on the line. I rush forward, the wind whipping my hair, and raise the sword. I realize that Drake is much more experienced at wielding transions than I am, and I expect flame to burst from under my feet any second- yet nothing happens. The oaken-haired Vanir is standing there, doing nothing except watching for a few precious moments as I charge towards him.

At the very last second, Drake raises his bow to block the incoming strike, sparks flying from the point of contact. He draws back, a moment of disbelief in his cold eyes- then we duel, blade against bow as we struggle to overcome the other. I realize that I have underestimated Drake- despite having a bow in hand, he wields the ranged weapon as skillfully as he would have a sword or dagger, using the bow's limbs as makeshift blades to block my attacks.

Every second burns itself into my mind as I see Drake's face, his oaken hair flying into his disbelieving eyes as I slash repeatedly at his indomitable guard. With every thrust, every attempted blow, I try to read his face, but cannot- his expression is that of one shocked, something I have never seen on the Vanir before.

Is he shocked because I have turned on him like this- scorned his dream, now standing in the way of his path to his destiny?

I call upon a lightning transion, blue bolts of energy flying off the edge of the curved greatsword. I see Drake's forehead wrinkle in exhaustion, but he does not falter as he brings the bow to guard, even as blinding flashes of electricity dart through our eyes. I see his face in the lightning, a face of despair, of having to live knowing that someone would always be better than him- the face which he once bore, and which I had bore once as well. It is the face I know he wore the moment he killed the Tsukuyomi ranger.

Has he betrayed me…or have I truly betrayed him?

The question presents itself for a fraction of a second as Drake's bow slips in his hands, from tension or exhaustion I do not know, and for a moment, his anger and hatred is gone from his face. For a moment, his eyes are wide, his expression weak, the nondescript Tsukuyomi servant he once was, beat down and abused by his superiors as I had been so long ago.

My eyes meet his, almost as if in passing, and at the same time, my arms instinctively thrust forward.

The lightning-charged blade slips past Drake's guard and pierces his hauberk, entering his body with a grotesque noise as electricity sears the flesh underneath. My mind screams no, but my arms won't listen, and the sword drives into Drake's body at the hilt, over four feet of crimson-laced crystal protruding from his back. One last, desperate, mangled cry escapes the Vanir's throat- his eyes wide, blood spilling out all over the blade and onto the ground- and he falls, the bow dropping from his grip as he staggers backwards, still impaled upon the sword.

_No…no, NO! _

Drake's body slides backwards off the sword and lands on top of Constantine's with a dull thud, his face pale, his icy eyes frozen with surprise for all eternity.

The sword drops from my hands and hits the soft forest earth, its edge still laced with fresh blood. I drop to my knees and scream a denial, hot tears blurring my sight, but I know that nothing will change what I have done. There is no eraser, no undo button, no second chance in death.

I have murdered, taken the life of another, and for the first time, the life that was lost had been that of someone I had known and cherished.

"Drake…_I'm sorry!"_

-----

_End Part 3._

_Because I know at least one person was confused, I will explain: Transions can refer to both the charged particles of mana and the artes cast with them- hence, you can have sentences like "I used the transions in the air to cast a fire transion."_

_Two gigantic, unbelievable plot twists await you all in the last four acts, so review._

_Revolt shall be coming…soon. I promise._

_-Kal_


End file.
